


According to Plan

by BlessedMasochist



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Related, Edward Nygma is Bad at Feelings, F/M, M/M, Nygmobblepot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlessedMasochist/pseuds/BlessedMasochist
Summary: Edward grinned inwardly at the look of tentative hope in his bright blue eyes. The fool believed him, and it wouldn’t be long until Edward had him eating out of the palm of his hand. “I came to realize that you have been the best friend I’ve ever had.” He stood in front of Oswald, kneeling down to be eye-level with him. He cupped his cheek, resisting the urge to squeeze his little head until it popped. “I love you, Oswald."Edward decides that in order to exact the perfect revenge on Oswald he must first give him everything he wants before taking it away. However, what will happen when Edward falls in over his head?
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 16
Kudos: 160





	1. I Want to Destroy Him

“I don’t want to kill him,” Edward growled, facing a grinning Barbara, and a less-than-pleased Tabitha and Butch. “I want to destroy him.”

“How do you propose to do that, string bean,” Tabitha asked with a sneer. “Penguin is the mayor; he rules the gangs. He’s practically untouchable.”

Edward laughed, eyes set in a grim glare at the unimaginable woman. 

“Oh! You’re going to use his heart against him, aren’t you?” Barbara asked excitedly. 

Edward grinned and nodded.” He’ll hurt just as much as me if I seemingly give in to his crazy notion of love before breaking his heart.”

“And then we’ll kill him!” Butch added as if he had understood the plan all along instead of gaping like a gorilla.

“Yes,” he huffed. “Then we’ll kill him.”

“Sounds peachy, Eddie,” Barbara said with a congenial smile, keeping the peace by a thin thread. “Just remember who helped you with this plan. We have a deal.” 

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “You’ll rule Gotham.” Though the vacuum of power that Oswald’s death would cause would surely overwhelm the blonde, she didn’t need to know that yet.

He returned to the manor with a plan in place and confidence in his step. Oswald was in the parlor, a glass of whiskey in his hand. “Oswald... I’m sorry for running out,” he whispered, stepping into the room. 

It was quite clear he had been crying, despite his stubborn attempts at rubbing away the wet rivulets of ruined mascara from his cheeks. Oswald did not look at Edward; instead, he continued to gaze at the slowly melting ball of ice in his whiskey. “No need to keep up the charade any longer if you plan to resign,” he said, surprised at how sad his own voice sounded as the words sighed quietly between his lips, alcohol thick on his breath. The sullen mayor wasn’t sure who to be angrier with, Edward, or himself for being childish enough to believe in love. 

“No...no, Oswald,” he murmured, shuffling in a facsimile of apprehension at Oswald’s temperament. “Nothing made me happier than when you asked me to be your chief of staff. No one’s ever had that kind of faith in my abilities.” Edward felt it was better to pepper the truth into the fiction he was crafting; it made the lie more believable. “I’m sorry I ran off, I’m not good at processing my feelings; I needed some time to sort myself out…”

“I overstepped myself,” he said dismissively, clearly having fenced himself off in Edward’s absence. “Perhaps I was drunk on victory, and like a gambler, bound to try for more…” he trailed off, clearly struggling to form deep thought in his state. 

“More than my friendship?” he asked with a soft smile. “You didn’t overstep. Your ambition and perseverance are what initially attracted me to you as a mentor.” He bit his lip, as if hesitant to continue. A shy flush covered his cheek, even as his mind screamed for retribution for Isabella. “What I discovered in my ruminations was a realization that I do feel the same way about you. I love you, Oswald.” 

Heart bruised from Edward’s earlier abrupt abandonment, Oswald sucked in a slow breath, refusing to look him in the eye as the aforementioned organ throbbed painfully in his chest as his dear friend reciprocated his earlier admission. “You… You can’t mean that,” he insisted firmly, refusing to give in to the beautiful rush of endorphins that accompanied the emotion of love reciprocated. 

Edward grinned inwardly at the look of tentative hope in his bright blue eyes. The fool believed him, and it wouldn’t be long until Edward had him eating out of the palm of his hand. “I do,” he replied, stepping closer to Oswald. “I mean it, Oswald. You were there for me when no one else was. Through Arkham, when Butch attacked me, and when Isabella died.” He hoped Oswald felt a pang of guilt within his selfish black little heart. “I came to realize that you have been the best friend I’ve ever had.” He stood in front of Oswald, kneeling down to be eye-level with him. He cupped his cheek, resisting the urge to squeeze his little head until it popped. “I love you, Oswald, but I understand if you need time…” 

The mobster seemed smaller, cheek pressed against Edward’s palm timidly. Upon close inspection, his eyes were quite red, irritated vessels stark against the bright contrast between whites of his eyes and his seafoam irises. “You… you’re humoring me, aren’t you?” he whispered, savoring the touch while it lasted, despite himself. “Edward, if you wish to be my friend, you don’t have to love me; if that’s what you’re trying to preserve, you needn’t bother with the confession.”

Ire began to boil his blood at Oswald’s reluctance to accept his words. With an inward sigh, he swooped in, capturing Oswald’s lips in a breathtaking kiss. He thread his fingers through his hair, cradling his head as his eyes fluttered closed. 

Breath hitching in his throat, Oswald nearly dropped his glass in shock. Edward’s lips were soft, softer than he could have imagined, and a thrilling rush of heat settled in the pit of his stomach as the other man’s fingers stroked through his hair. “Ed…”

He looked down at him, ignoring the heat in his cheeks, and the quickened pace of his heart. This was the thrill of a new scheme, the rush of getting away with his transgression. It certainly wasn’t the feeling of Oswald’s lips against his own, far gentler than he would have supposed. “Wow,” he breathed, smiling down at the other man.

He was flushed deeply from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears, heart hammering in his chest rapidly as he looked up at his companion anxiously, fingertips touching his own lips gently, as though unsure if he believed what had just occurred. 

He smiled at Oswald, palm moving back to caress his freckled cheek. “My dear Mayor~” he murmured warmly. 

A soft, shuddering cry slipped from his throat as he closed his eyes, savoring all of the closeness his addled mind could manage. It was plain that Oswald had gone without comfort for some time since his mother’s passing, and the simple touch was enough to unravel him entirely. “Ed, I… I don’t know what to say,” he managed to murmur softly after wiping his eyes again.

“There’s no need to get weepy, love,” he said warmly, wiping an errant tear from his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Would you like to go lay down? Or perhaps share a drink?”

“Love…” he chuckled, unable to decide whether to smile or cry more before offering Edward a glass. “A drink then,” he concluded, managing to compose himself enough to fill the other man’s glass.

They shared a drink and congenial conversation, Edward allowing a few kisses here and there, trying to sell his lie. When it was time for bed, Edward ducked a kiss to Oswald’s cheek. 

With all the earnestness of a young man in love, Oswald whispered goodnight and held the other man’s hand in a lingering grasp before his fingers slipped from his own, cheeks warm and flushed with happiness. “You’ve made me very happy,” he added softly.

Edward smiled, dark eyes filled with warmth. “I love you, Oswald, have a good night.” 

“I… I love you too, Eddie,” he replied, pupils wide as he looked up into the other man’s eyes one last time. He leaned against the door frame with a contented sigh as he watched the other man walk down the hall. He was unable to resist a long glance at his retreating backside before slipping inside his bedroom. 

He felt as though he were floating, fumbling out of his clothing to collapse against his plush mattress, burrowing happily beneath the blankets before promptly slipping into blissful unconsciousness.


	2. Four Eyes

The next day found Edward waking Oswald bright and early for his mayoral duties with a soft kiss to his sleep-warmed cheek. “Rise and shine, my love~” he murmured, laying on the simpering language thick.

“Hmm...Ed?” Oswald’s eyes fluttered open, the memory of the previous evening was hazy at best, as though it were a dream. But there was Ed, kneeling beside him on the covers with a warm smile, already showered and dressed for the day. “Good morning,” he whispered stiffly, shifting to sit up with a quiet groan.

He adjusted his glasses with a grin. “Your breakfast and coffee are being prepared as we speak. I’ve your itineraries for the day, but first…” he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss against his lips. 

Oswald quite nearly dodged it, cheeks a furious red as he self consciously gathered the sheets around himself. “Y-you don’t have to do that,” he murmured, sober mind both shy and suspicious of Edward’s seemingly unbridled enthusiasm for their new relationship. The other man tended to be overzealous and was undoubtedly dedicated to whatever his mind was set to. Still, it seemed strange and new to Oswald, unused to the physical intimacy.

“Oh…” he sat back, cheeks flushing in seeming embarrassment. In reality, he was angry that now Oswald was spurning his affections. “Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes downcast. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable…” He stood from the bed an appropriate distance away, the picture of his chief of staff once more. 

“It’s alright, Ed,” he murmured, noting how his friend wilted. Had he been telling the truth the previous night? Had he been harboring these feelings the entire time alongside his own? “I cannot help my naturally distrusting nature,” he chuckled softly, reaching for his robe. 

Edward’s eyes narrowed a bit behind his glasses. “You don’t trust me,” he whispered softly, feigning hurt like a practiced actor. 

“I don’t trust anyone Ed, but I trust you,” he replied, not wishing for the other man’s feelings to be hurt. Oswald cinched the sash about his robe tightly before limping to his vanity. 

“I trust you too, Oswald. I’ve never been able to rely on anyone like I rely on you.” He sat on the bed, watching Oswald put his makeup on. 

He had slowly formed an easy-to-follow routine with Edward’s advice, taking a moment to apply a moisturizer and primer before covering his freckles in an even tone of foundation. Next came the mascara, a bit of eyeliner, and after a moment of consideration, chapstick. “Is there breakfast?” he asked, stomach rumbling noisily. “I need coffee at the very least…” Oswald yawned, resisting the urge to rub his eyes.

“They’re preparing breakfast for you as we speak,” he reminded gently. “I can go get your coffee if you’re feeling impatient.”

“Would you mind?” he asked with a faint smile as he sussed out what to wear for the day. “Red or purple?” Oswald held up two silky ties, one an eggplant paisley, the other a neat red and black pinstripe. 

“I’ve always been partial to the purple, Oswald,” he smiled, standing to head to the door.

He returned five minutes later with a steaming cup of black coffee for Oswald.

The newly elected mayor was fully dressed, a neatly folded pocket square adding another splash of purple to the outfit, matching his socks and tie. “Thank you…dear,” he added nervously, a faint flush seeping through his makeup. He took the cup, fingertips brushing against Edward’s knuckle gently as he did. 

Edward smiled softly down at his former friend. “No problem,” he replied warmly. “If you’re ready, your breakfast awaits.” He offered his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. 

Quietly delighted, he took it, burying his nose in the perfectly brewed cup with a content sigh. Aware of the curious gaze of the staff, Oswald narrowed his eyes at them, as though daring them to say something as Edward led him down the hall toward the dining room. Despite his apprehension, he found himself incredibly content. 

Edward pulled his chair out, the dining room table set for two. “Today, I secured an interview with a nationally accredited journalist. Everyone from Metropolis to Coastal City will know how well you serve this city.”

“Perfect, we can always use some good press,” he praised, “perhaps a little outside attention will show that Gotham is eager to improve relations.” Oswald had another long sip of coffee before he went about spreading a generous amount of raspberry and plum jam on his toast. He took several large bites before turning his attention to the fresh fruit, arching an eyebrow curiously. “Am I on a diet?” 

Nonfat creamer. Unsalted butter. Strawberries and sliced bananas. Whole wheat bread. All in all, a healthy breakfast compared to his usual hearty sausage, cheese and onion omelette, and thick-cut hash browns. 

Edward chuckled softly at Oswald’s indignation. “Healthy eating is essential for healthy living. You’re the mayor now; you should begin to think about your longevity.”

He scowled childishly, but said nothing, as Edward was entirely correct, as he often was. Logical Bastard. He munched on the rest of his toast for a moment before changing the subject. “When is the interview? I’ll have to put some rouge on before I go on camera, or I’ll look dreadfully pale.” 

“It is scheduled for three this afternoon, after your meeting with the safety commission.” He stirred a spoonful of sugar into his tea, choosing a few fruits and some toast with jam to put on his plate.

“Perfect, I can do it after lunch,” he said, sifting through the fruit to pick out the strawberries. “I appreciate your hard work scheduling everything for me.”

“Always,” he assured with a smile. Oswald bit into the plump red fruit, soft lips stained with juice, and Edward found himself distracted by the sight. He licked his lips and averted his gaze, ignoring the flush in his cheeks. Was the other man being deliberately obscene?!

Entirely absentminded, Oswald simply savored the sweet-tartness of the fruit, favoring it over the banana. He licked the juice from his fingers before wiping them on a napkin. 

When he looked up at Edward again, the other man’s eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape. He swallowed heavily, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I suppose the strawberries were a good choice, then?”

Oswald nodded, looking a bit sullen that they were gone. He munched on the banana slices reluctantly. “I like sweet fruits.”

He adjusted his glasses again and focused on his tea. “May I ask you something?” 

“Of course, Ed, anything. I believe transparency will be our greatest ally together.” He smiled encouragingly. 

“Wh-why me?” he asked softly, eyes downcast as he feigned embarrassment and endearing sincerity. “You have Gotham on its knees. You could have anyone you want.” Why kill her for me? I thought we were friends...

“You saw value in me when I was ready to give it up,” he replied, blue-green eyes shimmering sincerely. “I was ready to leave Gotham forever, but you knew I could do more, that I was still capable of conquest… Without you, I would have simply ceased to be myself. Ed, you are the most important person I know.”

Edward’s eyes widened. He thought that Oswald’s time in his apartment was only significant to him. That the other man had simply recovered from his injuries, and then returned the favor when he rescued him from Arkham. He had no illusions that he meant anything more to Oswald until recently. Had he felt their kinship from the beginning? The next question passed from his lips without his consent, “How long have you known you were in love with me…?” 

“When you sang to me,” he said, dabbing his eyes with a nervous chuckle. “I’ve been on the mend before, lost everything I’ve built... no one has ever shown such empathy. Most people are either afraid of my vitriol or treat me as a nuisance. You must think I’m a bit foolish, thinking with my heart and all- there’s just something special about you.”

We are better off unencumbered… 

Edward continued to stare at Oswald, heart hammering in his throat. Edward had allowed himself to love, to attend to the happiness and safety of another woman despite his track record. He had been so afraid of harming her, and still, she slipped through his fingers. 

All because Oswald couldn’t take second place. He clenched his jaw, cheeks warming with indignation. He reigned himself in, anxious that Oswald could sense his anger. “No one has ever considered me special, Oswald. Usually, I’m a freak, or a pariah, or that weird know-it-all nerd. People are never fond of me. They only tolerate me. Until...until I met you.”

“I feel the same way,” he said, placing his hand atop Edward’s in an attempt to comfort his apparently frayed nerves. “You are unlike any other, you are so special to me.” 

Edward bit his tongue, ignoring the quickened pace of his heartbeat. He held Oswald’s hand, squeezing gently. “You are so special to me.”

Flushing, Oswald left his hand there a moment longer before Olga returned to freshen his coffee. Oblivious to Edward’s ire, the smaller man seemed utterly content, a faint smile clinging to his lips as he reluctantly polished off the banana slices. 

Soon the breakfast was over, and they needed to attend to their separate duties. 

Edward, as soon as he was ensconced in his office at city hall --after an admittedly unsuccessful meeting of the safety commission-- received a call on his cell. Not the main cell-phone, but an individually purchased burner, the number only given out to one person. He clicked it open with a smirk. “Hello, Barbara, to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure.” His tone was low, a threatening timber as Ms. Kean knew all too well never to call him. He would reach out to them when the next phase was ready. 

“How are things?” she asked pointedly. 

“Everything is progressing according to plan.”

A wicked giggle came through from the other end, and Edward rolled his eyes. “Is he eating out of the palm of your hand, both literally and figuratively.” 

“Just figuratively, don’t be vulgar. Everything is progressing well; don’t call again unless it’s an emergency.” He snapped the phone shut and stalked towards Oswald’s office, pallid with rage at Barbara’s audacity. 

Oswald, though delighted by the development between them, could not help but be suspicious of how quickly Edward seemed to recover from his melancholy. For as enamored of Isabelle as he had supposedly been, Oswald found it almost too good to be true… and yet there he sat at his desk, sighing happily at the thought of kissing Edward as he half-heartedly leafed through his paperwork.

He had calmed himself enough not to storm into Oswald’s office. He did not wish to arouse suspicion. He twisted his features into a convincing doting smile, eyes warm and set on his “beloved”. “Are you ready for the interview, Mr. Mayor?” he asked softly.

“I think so… is there time for coffee?,” he asked absently, pausing to crack open a small compact and inspect his face. “Do I look all right?” Oswald had never struggled with his self-esteem but understood appearance mattered more to others than it did to himself. He looked up at Edward in earnest, awaiting what he knew would be an honest reply.

He stepped closer, reaching over to brush some stray powder from the round of his cheek. “There, perfection.” As if to emphasize his point, he leaned down and kissed Oswald’s lips chastely, straightening up before anyone saw his indiscretion.

Oswald flushed, as he often did when in close proximity to the other man, a soft, shy chuckle slipping from his lips as he rose from his seat, tucking the compact back inside his suit pocket. “Thank you,” he murmured, turning to pluck up the packet of talking points Edward had prepared for him. His heart thumped playfully behind his ribs, a giddiness clinging about him as the pair made their way to the awaiting limo, where the smaller man was all too happy to scoot in close beside his dear friend and partner. 

Edward allowed their thighs to touch, hand settling atop Oswald’s own. “Make sure you mention the crime reform, your approval rating is through the roof. Crime is down, and then citizens have never been happier,” he gushed, smile wide as he regarded his friend. He was almost the picture of the babbling forensic specialist he had met those few years ago. Eager and enamored.

Oswald smiled, cheeks dimpling as he admired the other man’s enthusiasm, fingertips gently tracing over his knuckles as he gave the other man his undivided attention. “Your dedication never ceases to impress me, I would never have accomplished so much so quickly without your help.”

Edward wasn’t sure if that was what wounded him the most about Oswald’s betrayal. The absolute sincerity of their friendship. He still attributed his success to Edward; when he figured a man like Oswald Cobblepot would greedily claim all the glory for his own. 

It was times like these that Edward could almost forget the desire to wrap his fingers around Oswald’s throat. Almost. He cupped Oswald’s cheek, gazing into those cool green eyes, and smiled softly. “You have achieved everything on your own, my love. You are the arbiter of your fate, I am merely here to help realize your vision, the potential of this city under your command.”

“You ought to write poetry,” Oswald sighed, pressing his warm cheek into Edward’s palm. “You sing my praises like a courtier to a king, and yet I find myself wishing to do the exact same… A dangerous power you have over me, Ed." 

Though the lingering feeling of anxiety continued to bubble in his stomach, distrusting nature worried even now that things were going far too well.

If Oswald continued on this sentimental tangent, Edward would be forced to reciprocate, and he was positive his feelings of anger would manifest over the play-acting. Instead, he said, “I cover what’s real, hide what is true, but sometimes bring out the courage in you. What am I?” 

Oswald smiled, not at all put off by the other man’s penchant for inappropriately timed riddles. “Hmm…” he pondered for a moment, giving it a proper try before shrugging, knowing that Edward would offer the answer. 

Edward appreciated that Oswald did not seem exasperated with his riddles; that he actually took the time to contemplate the answer before admitting defeat. He could not help the smile that blossomed over his lips, eyes truly warm as he gave the answer. “Makeup. If you keep getting misty-eyed, you’ll ruin your makeup.”

Oswald laughed, resting his head against Edward’s shoulder until they reached their destination. The interview went well, and, in a surge of confidence, the newly elected mayor invited his partner to dinner at a fancy new restaurant in town, as he wished to be seen in public with his Chief of Staff- perhaps the tabloids would start a few rumors.

The dinner was surprisingly pleasant, and Edward used the opportunity to surreptitiously caress Oswald’s hand on the table between them, staring longingly into his eyes as he spoke, grinning widely at his vicious and scheming jokes, the effortless way he commanded a room. They were served as if they were kings, and in a way, he supposed they were. At the end of the night, they returned to the manor, pleasantly foggy from the wine they shared, and content. Edward took Oswald’s hand naturally as they threw themselves onto the divan, tangled together in a mass of limbs. Edward sighed happily as he caressed Oswald’s hair.

“Mmm… Eddie, this has been a splendid day surveying the kingdom,” he smiled, eyes shut as he focused on the expert carding of the other man’s fingers through his dark hair. “I think I saw a few photographers, even.” Oswald liked the idea of being seen with Edward, having begun to collect the better shots that the paparazzi had to offer him. The other man was pleasantly warm against him, face gravitating into the crook of his neck with a content sigh, lips unconsciously puckering to kiss the soft skin gently.

Edward blamed the alcohol for his flushed cheeks, quickened heartbeat, and hazy contented disposition. It certainly wasn’t Oswald sitting warmly against him, or the feeling of his soft lips against the sensitive skin of his throat. He turned his cheek, pressing his lips against Oswald’s temple. “I agree, your majesty. A most successful day indeed~” he laughed softly. 

“I look forward to many more successful days," he smirked, delighting in the other man’s smile. He found himself draping an arm around the other man comfortably, snuggling a bit closer.

Edward decided now was a good time for a romantic gesture to cement the fact in Oswald’s mind of his affection for him. He gently tilted the other man’s chin up and leaned down for a sweet, warm kiss against his lips. 

Though it was delightful, Oswald found himself shying away, nervous that his body’s natural reaction might startle Edward away, or discourage him from doing it again. “Ed, I’m sorry I-” he flushed, fidgeting with his hands as his face remained dreadfully close to the other man’s. 

Edward titled his head, curious as to Oswald’s reluctance. Perhaps physical intimacy didn’t matter to him. He looked into his eyes, a soft, undemanding smile on his lips. “No need to apologize. This is new for me too.”

After a pause, Oswald kissed him again, chaste and unpracticed, yet endearing as he cupped Edward’s cheek. “Thank you for being patient with me,” he whispered against those soft pink lips, exhaling hotly. 

“Always. Like I told you, I would do anything for you,” he murmured in reply against his lips. That had been true, he would have done anything Oswald asked before the awful bird betrayed his trust. 

“This is terribly dangerous of us,” he chuckled, pressing a few soft kisses to the arc of Edward’s cheek. “Anyone could see us out here in the parlor~” Oswald didn’t seem too bothered by the idea at the moment, though he rather wished Edward would take him to bed. 

“Then perhaps we should retire for the evening,” he replied, the soft timbre of his voice now a low growl. 

“Could we?” he replied demurely, rather liking the idea of Edward following him to bed. He sat up, straightening his clothes before coming to stand with the other man’s assistance. Arousal lurked at the corners of his mind as the pair leaned on one another and made their way down the hall to Oswald’s bedroom. 

Edward helped him out of his clothes, getting them both ready for sleep. He tried not to think about Oswald’s creamy white skin, the soft flush of his cheeks as his body was revealed. Together they lied in the middle of the bed, limbs entangled as Edward pulled Oswald close.

The smaller man sighed happily, curling against the other man sleepily as he clung to his side, fingertips gently caressing a soft patch of skin near Edward’s side. “This makes me so happy…” he breathed softly, as though confessing a grave sin. “Why does this make me so happy?” 

“Because you’re in love,” he whispered, heart hammering in his throat. 

“Yes…” he smiled, pressing his forehead gently against Edward’s. “I suppose I am in love.”

Oswald shoved away any nervous thoughts, happy to bask in the warmth of the other man’s loving embrace until he quickly succumbed to slumber.

The moon spilling into the room cast a strange glow over Oswald’s seafoam green eyes. He looked ethereal lying beside him, happy to believe anything Edward whispered between them. He pressed another chaste kiss to his lips, ignoring the plan entirely. 

“I’ve often wondered if I am deserving of love,” he mused aloud, safe in the cover of darkness. “From anyone, much less you. I’ve been so selfish.”

For the first time, Oswald admitted his guilt, feeling as though it was owed to his dear friend.

Edward’s eyes widened as he struggled to feign ignorance. “What do you mean, Oswald? You’ve been nothing but kind to me. You got me out of Arkham, helped me to realize who I am. Your help and friendship have been invaluable to me.” He had not figured Oswald would confess. His plan centered around the concrete fact that Oswald was incapable of true love, of selfless devotion for a partner. 

“It is foolish of me to say this now, but I fear I cannot continue without a moment of honesty, or our trust will be broken,” he took a steadying breath, ran his trembling fingers through Edward’s hair and placed a kiss on his lips, lest it be his last chance. 

“It’s my fault Isabella is dead.”

Edward’s breath caught in his throat; he lay there frozen, unable to will his brain to produce a suitable reply. His grip on Oswald unconsciously tightened, and all he could squeak out was a hollow, “why”. 

Oswald was prepared for the worst, breath held tight in his chest as he awaited the fierce curl of those long slender fingers around his neck. He savored what could be his last bit of oxygen before he spoke; voice trembling as he continued, “Because I am selfish. I couldn’t stand that she took you out from under my nose. That night you met Isabella, I had planned to confess my feelings…” It was worthy to note he said her name correctly each time he spoke it, as though it were the least he could do, a tribute to the memory of her early demise. “You spent so much time worrying about hurting her, agonizing over what she thought when I was right here, unafraid and absolutely drawn to you… Even when you asked me to break up with her on your behalf she refused. I was angry, I-I was jealous, I don’t know. I just wanted her to be gone so that you’d find your way back to my side, so I could have that second chance… I’m sorry, Ed.”

Then, he shut his eyes and held his breath, heart pounding in his ears as he awaited Edward’s judgment, fully prepared to die for his deeds- better to die now by his hand, here in this bed.

Edward sat up, body trembling as his breathing became erratic. Why did he confess! It was against Oswald’s nature to be self-sacrificing. 

Perhaps he truly loves you~ Came an unwelcome mocking voice. His eyes widened, frazzled mind trying to will the manifestation away. 

Oswald cracked his eyes open, heart trembling in his chest as he looked up at the other man anxiously. “Ed…?”

“Oswald...I don’t know what to say…” he breathed, brain silenced for perhaps the first time in his life. He extricated himself from Oswald and stood from the bed. “I need some time.” As if possessed, he turned toward the door; he needed to plan, to make contingencies for this new development. Oswald was never meant to show genuine contrition!

“I understand,” he whispered, unable to say anything more eloquent, considering his life to be spared for the time being. Better than the alternative, he decided knuckles nearly white as his fingers tightly wound in the sheets, heart thumping painfully in his chest as he watched Edward’s retreating back. He held on to his tears though his eyes welled, threatening to spill at any moment had he not tipped his head back with a strangled sigh- he almost wished Edward had just killed him.

Furious and thwarted, Edward stalked toward his own rooms, slamming and locking the door once safely inside. His mind was whirling and racing, thoughts half-formed before another took their place. He was absolutely beside himself as he began to pace the room, long legs quickly taking him from one end to the other. 

“Why did he have to confess?” he mumbled aloud, pointedly ignoring his fixed and smirking expression in the mirror. “It doesn’t make sense! It doesn’t follow the well-documented patterns of behavior!”

You’re asking the wrong question~ The smug voice from the mirror replied, laughing at his expense, no doubt. 

“Shut up, I do not need your input in this. I cannot fathom why you’re here to begin with. I am in control.” 

The reflection’s eyes widened, lips pursed as if to mock the severity of his plight. I am here because you’re being an idiot. One, I might add, who is going to lose everything if he doesn’t tread carefully.

“What are you talking about!? I’ve already lost everything; Oswald killed her out of spite and jealousy!”

And love. 

He sputtered at those two simple words, finding no way to refute them other than a childish, “He doesn’t love me. He isn’t capable of it!” 

What has four eyes but can’t see. 

“Mississippi,” he answered with a sneer, turning toward the mirror again. “But what does that…” His reflection was gone. The silence that permeated the room caused a shiver to run down Edward’s spine. Mechanically he got into the large four-post bed, categorically not thinking about how having Oswald by his side had filled him with a warmth and comfort he never knew existed. 

Oswald fell asleep curled in a sad ball in the middle of the mattress, considering himself lucky to be breathing, but equally depressed to be doing so. If Edward could not forgive him, how could they continue? He would rather have died. 

His achievements thus far would matter so little without Edward to share them with, especially after all he had done for him.

Edward, for his part, was unable to sleep, tossing and turning in his bed until, at last, he gave up any pretense of rest and rose to retool his plan. 

You know this will never work, the skeptical and sarcastic voice floated around Edward’s brain every time he thought he might have a solid idea. It was like trying to catch smoke, pointless and powerfully humbling. 

“What do you mean,” he growled, turning slowly toward the mirror. 

Your entire plan is based on false data. Oswald confessed and admitted fault; he is capable of selfless love.

“No, no, no! This is a ploy... he’s found out about the plan... he’s manipulating me,” he replied sharply. 

What has four eyes but can’t see?

“Sister statues in the park? I still don’t see-” His double had vanished, leaving Edward irritated and no closer to a solution.


	3. The Answer to the Riddle

As dawn rose, Edward mechanically began to prepare for the day. He took both itinerary packets and trudged towards Oswald’s door. Improvisation was never his metier, but he supposed he was treading in uncharted waters. He entered after a soft knock and began to open the curtains to let the light in on Oswald’s sleeping form. 

Stirring softly, then with a start, Oswald awoke, red-rimmed eyes meeting Edward’s nervously as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Good Morning…” he murmured softly.

“Good morning, Mr. Mayor,” Edward replied softly. “Here are your itineraries for today.” He set them down on the bureau, unsure of what to do with his hands now that they were empty. He gazed steadily at Oswald, no warmth in the brown depths.   
Pulse thrumming steadily in his neck, Oswald found it difficult to breathe under the other man’s gaze, wondering if perhaps now was the time for his punishment. “Thank you,” he acknowledged, slowly sitting up.

Why did he look like a kicked puppy? Where was the ruthless man who only sought his own ascension? Oswald had thrown his former mentor off a roof in order to claim her crown. How dare he look at him as if he were a victim of Edward’s ire? Where was The Penguin! He strode forward in three ground-eating steps reaching out with lightning speed to grab Oswald’s jaw. He didn’t want to see the pain in the other man’s eyes, he wasn’t the one who had been hurt! “You let me kiss you, care about you, love-” he stopped, voice cracking in his throat as he raged against his former friend. “And the whole time you knew you had killed my girlfriend! You let me grieve, I bet you enjoyed how I came crawling back to you. Was this all part of your plan!” 

He had to applaud himself on his performance, real anger fuelling the lie. He stepped back, shoulders trembling as he turned away from Oswald. 

Hanging his head, the mayor said nothing, blood running cold in his veins at the truth Edward spoke. “Why do you think I told you?” he said quietly, unable to look him in the eye again. “I couldn’t go on keeping it secret from you … not if I wanted it to be real.” 

Edward watched his facial expression, waiting for the apparent tell Oswald exhibited when lying. Wide earnest eyes, glancing down in shame instead of to the left in deceit; his nose had not crinkled as he spoke, nor did he tilt his head in self-satisfaction. In fact, for all Edward could tell, he was being entirely genuine. “I don’t know where to go from here,” he admitted, at something of a moral crossroads. 

“I beg your forgiveness,” Oswald said, having laid awake pondering just that. “If you can forgive me, then we can continue to trust one another.” He knew that Edward had every right to decline, to hold a grudge, to enact revenge, but the earnest part of his heart hoped perhaps their relationship was special enough to endure.

“How can I trust you after what you did? This isn’t about Isabella...You lied to me.”

“I’m not a good man, Ed, I never pretended to be,” he replied, sighing softly, “I thought you knew that. I thought you were a criminal like me. You would have killed her eventually Ed, she was exceptionally foolish, deliberately provoking you by changing her appearance to resemble Kristen… You were agonizing over hurting her, I didn’t want you to have the second murder of a loved one on your conscious and consider yourself a failure… I-I wanted to take care of you- men like us are destined for more, remember?”

The venom in Oswald’s words snapped Edward back to himself. Isabella’s impassioned insistence that she was not afraid of his criminal nature had been strange, he admitted. Dressing as his dead girlfriend seemed to prove a budding psychosis. Had Edward been so desperate for attention and love that he really overlooked those red flags? Oswald may have lied to him, but he was right, he was a criminal, they were criminals. Moral relativism was their bread and butter, and perhaps his melancholy was linked to a subconscious desire that had plagued him his whole life, the desire to be normal, to fit in. He had never had to compromise himself with Oswald. He never had to fear hurting him, or that the other man would shun his eccentricities. “You’re right,” he murmured softly, shoulders slumping as he came to realize that he could not exact revenge upon Oswald. He did not have cause to do so. 

“It could be you and I against this city, I just needed you to give me a chance to prove I could be what you needed…” he finally looked up, blue-green eyes swimming. “Forgive me for my selfishness.”

He clenched his jaw and nodded, ever-sharp mind now mulling over the fact that Barbara, Tabby, and the idiot gorilla were still frothing at the mouth for Oswald’s throne. “We would be stronger together,” he conceded. 

“I could never fight you for power, Ed, the only way we can rule is alongside one another,” he replied, finally sounding hopeful.

Dark eyes glittered dangerously behind his glasses as he regarded Oswald. He smirked and approached the other man. “Partners?” he asked, holding out his hand. 

Oswald took the other man’s hand, fingers of his left hand tightly encircling the blade he kept beneath his pillow. If Edward attacked him now he would take him down along-side him, they could die together. But there was no pain, and with a gentle tug, the handshake became a gentle, honest kiss, and Oswald abandoned the knife to cup Edward’s face with a soft grip at their lips melded with a slow crescendo of intensity. 

Edward was startled by the kiss, eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of Oswald’s lips against his own. That had not been what he had in mind when he said partners, but he supposed the colloquial connotations for the word brought about this misunderstanding. Still, he found himself threading his fingers through Oswald’s hair and tilting his jaw to deepen the kiss. 

They parted with a soft sigh. Their eyes locked with a surge of emotion that was almost palpable as Oswald finally drew in a breath and spoke, "Forgive me, I forgot myself."

"It's alright, Oswald," he murmured. Edward had to think quickly. Oswald may have confessed to him, but Edward had entered into this relationship under false pretence, and he was certain if Oswald found out he would be a dead man. Better to play along and have the other slowly lose interest. He knew, despite Oswald's protestations to the contrary, that he would soon be sick of Edward. Everyone always was eventually. "Despite what happened with Isabella, I find my feelings for you haven't altered. I think, like with your mother and Ms. Kringle, our desire to be normal is contrary to our nature, and we are unable to protect the ones we love. It's not love that is our weakness, it's mediocrity, it's being average." He caressed the line of Oswald's cheek. "We are not normal men, and I'm sorry I forgot that."

Oswald’s lips blossomed into a handsome smile, gazing up at the other man proudly. “We’re capable of so much more,” he encouraged easily, intoxicated by the soft growl in Edward’s throat. “Think of where we will be ten years from now, what we will have accomplished in this city together…”

"Ten years," he replied softly. He held back any disparaging remarks about Oswald falling out of love with him way before a decade had passed. "Speaking of our fair city Barnes called with an update about the Tetch virus. It would seem with Alice dead her brother, Jervis Tetch, is out for revenge by infecting people with her blood. From what the reports say there is no known cure and the substance has drastic effects on the victim's physiology. Prolonged exposure to the virus has shown to have detrimental effects on the psyche. I am implementing further safety measures to ensure you as mayor are not targeted." He moved back over to the bureau and lifted the files and schedules, handing everything to Oswald. 

Oswald wrinkled his nose, finding the new subject unsavory. “Disgusting, I trust you’ll see to it that I’m kept out of harm’s way…” 

"I do not imagine he will be a threat for long. The GCPD has teamed up with "private detective" Jim Gordan to help track Tetch down, and you know once dear old Jim has set his mind to something…" 

“Oh yes, I’m quite familiar with James Gordon’s commitment to justice…” he mumbled, shuddering at the memory of his nights spent in Arkham. Pushing away those thoughts, Oswald looked up at Edward. "I expect you're right, Jim will have Tetch behind bars within the week."

Edward grinned viciously, and nodded. "Most likely two if bumbling Bullock gets in the way." Without thought he deposited a tender kiss to Oswald's lips before attending to the other man's wardrobe. They were dreadfully behind schedule now.

Oswald rose after a moment more lingering beneath the warm comforter, donning his robe to slide behind his vanity and quickly go through his morning routine before dressing in the outfit Edward had selected on his behalf. “You know me so well~” he praised, appreciating the assistance as the other man helped him into various pieces of the outfit without prompting. 

"I would certainly hope so by now," he chuckled, amused as he fondly straightened Oswald's tie. 

"It still delights me," Oswald murmured, admiring Edward's finer details from the close proximity; his long dark eyelashes, his soft pink lips, the sharp arch of his cheekbone- like a chiseled statue, one by Michelangelo or Giambologna. Realizing he was staring, the shorter of the two cleared his throat and swept a few stray hairs from his forehead. Oswald's relaxed expression stiffened as he spotted the cane propped by the door, evidently brought by Edward. As lovely and well crafted it was, Oswald detested drawing attention to his limp, even if it eased the pain.

Edward followed the trail of his gaze sighing softly when he realized Oswald's beleaguered look was for his cane. "It eases stress on the joints, Oswald," he reminded without preamble. 

"I know, I know," he hissed softly, taking it up in hand with a reluctant sigh. It was well balanced, a sleek blade hidden within the top beneath the silver homage to his name. 

Amused, Edward simply followed his puffed-up friend. Oswald's temper never bothered Edward. He knew the other man was prickly at the best of times. He watched him stalk down the hall, fond warmth in his eyes. 

The mayor snatched a to-go cup of coffee from a hapless intern on his way through the parlor to the awaiting limo, mumbling about the simplicity of hot coffee as he sipped the piping hot liquid. “Right on time, then?” he asked Edward, knowing that if he skipped breakfast it must be essential to their schedule. 

"We are now," he replied, having checked his watch. "I'll have someone send a bagel or muffin to your office." Edward straightened the papers in his lap as he sat beside Oswald in the limo. Distracted, he leaned over and placed a gentle kiss against his cheek. "I know how you hate to be rushed, but we have a meeting with Gordon and Barnes this morning to discuss the Tetch situation. Mainly, they're just looking for tactical approval…"

The meeting was uneventful as far as Oswald was concerned, finding himself more interested in Jim Gordon's new brand of cologne than the issue at hand. Barnes was loud and unappealing; his boisterous brand of right and wrong caused a dull ringing in his ears. Oswald rested his pointed chin on his knuckles, knowing that Edward would make note of anything pertinent. He was only shaken from his reverie when Jim addressed him directly. 

"Mayor Cobblepot?"

"Please Jim, we're friends. I've told you dozens of times, call me Oswald," he reminded, signing authorization for whatever it was they wanted-- Edward had handed it over with an approving nod, and that was good enough for him.

The mayor's stomach rumbled loudly as they found "nearly every pothole in Gotham" on the ride back to the manor; he thumbed through a few takeout menus impatiently. He wasn't certain if Edward had been entirely serious about the diet he'd mentioned two mornings prior, but after giving it some thought he imagined he deserved a treat after the long day. How could the other man deny him?

Edward thought the meeting with Barnes and Gordon had gone well, all things considered. Minimal threats and he only had to assert his new authority once. On the limo ride back he saw Oswald peeking at take out menus from the corner of his eye. "I'll have Olga prepare dinner for you at the manor," he said with a soft frown, snatching the menus from Oswald's grasp. 

"Oh but I wanted chinese… " Oswald sulked, looking surprised the other man had taken the paper advertisements from his hands. He stuck out his lower lip in an attempt to sway the other man with a cute pout. 

Unfazed, though unable to take his eyes away from him, Edward merely shook his head. He looked down at the menus in his hand, then back to Oswald, foot bouncing with indecision. "Tonight only… we've earned it after dealing with Gordon and Barnes." 

The pout turned into a smile and Oswald plucked up the menus, leaning against Edward comfortably as he decided which place to order from. “I don’t like Barnes,” he grouched quietly, finding his partner’s soft spoken tones a soothing relief after the captain’s loud rumblings left his ears ringing unpleasantly. 

"Very few do. His obsessive need for "justice" leaves little room for nuance. Everything is black and white for him, and those that do not fit into a neat little category are forced into one. It's a very stagnated way of thinking," he replied quietly, fingers threading themselves through the Mayor's soft hair.

Oswald sighed contentedly, discarding the take out menus that didn't make the cut before running a fingertip down the lines of food options with a hum. "Teriyaki Beef with stir fried rice and onions…"

Edward's nose wrinkled at 'onions'. "Chowmein for me, please. No onion." He tried not to focus on the pleasant smell of Oswald's hair. It was earthy and clean, not dissimilar from the cologne he wore. Without thought, his fingers trailed down the line of his throat, a gentle caress of the soft white skin. He felt no underlying need to wrap his long fingers around the other man's throat, no simmering anger that was difficult to maintain. He felt, in contrast, a warmth blooming in the pit of his stomach. 

Oswald drew in a soft breath as the other man's long finger's traced the sinew of his neck, recalling how they had killed as a faint shiver ran down his spine. He pulled out his cellphone and unsteadily dialed the number on the shiny plastic menu, finding it rather difficult to focus as Edward continued to absentmindedly caress him.

After Oswald ordered their food Edward sat back slowly, fingers moving away as he rested his hands in his lap. Idiot, he chastised himself, you're supposed to be subverting Oswald's putative desire for you, not encouraging it. 

You're so blind, Edward's reflection in the window said with a sneer. 

With a scowl he shook his head to dispel the hallucination.   
Oswald hummed softly in disappointment, but said nothing as he tucked the variety of menus back into the consol. His stomach growled eagerly, and with an even expression he looked at Edward, as though daring him to comment on the mighty roar. 

Edward's lips twitch, fighting a smirk. He simply reached over and dared to rub the mayor's tummy. 

Oswald seemed shocked by the impertinence for a moment before dissolving into soft giggles. "How many men do you think could get away with that, other than you?" he teased, unable to keep from smirking at the thought of stabbing a lesser man's hand instantly.

"One other," he replied immediately. "I'm quite certain Zsasz could and would make the attempt." He laughed along with Oswald, forgetting himself again as he nuzzled the side of Oswald's jaw, words ghosting over his ear.

"Victor," the smaller of the pair began, a fondness seeping into his tone against his will as he spoke, "does not understand boundaries." His voice wavered a bit lower, unconsciously leaning against the other man. A pleasant warmth flooded his cheeks as he recognized their proximity, finding it delightfully scandalous.

"He and I share that in common. I find social convention and propriety difficult to follow," he murmured against his throat. 

"I find it endearing," he assured gently, slipping his arm around Edward's waist warmly. "People I can trust are allowed as close as they dare to tread~" 

"Really~" he breathed, fingers dancing up his side to cup his cheek. "How close would you allow me?" 

As soon as he said it, and it came from a place deep in his subconscious, he regretted it. 

Oswald seemed startled to realize his answer, lips parting wordlessly as he drew in a slow, thoughtful breath. Edward's dark eyes held a perpetual curiosity, probing gaze picking him apart with every glance. He was scared of how bare he felt before the other man, and far more fearful to find that he enjoyed it. "Dangerously close," he murmured, sea glass eyes like a storm as his irises dilated at the sight of the other man; it was then Oswald realized he could die at the other man's hand happily- though he much preferred Edward's soft palm against his flushed cheek. 

Edward's eyes narrowed at Oswald's reply ever so slightly. He wondered if he had not given up his quest for vengeance just how far Oswald would've allowed him to take it. As it was he deposited a distracted kiss against his forehead as the car rolled to a stop in the manor drive way. "We're home," he murmured.

"Mm, good I'm starving. The food should be along soon, I hope," Oswald replied quietly, emerging from his reverie as the cool night air prickled his skin. Edward offered his arm, and he took it with a small smile, one that faded after a moment. "Shall we take dinner in the parlor, maybe with some wine?" he suggested as the other man opened the door for him. 

"That sounds--" His inner pocket vibrated, stopping his sentence short. With an irritated scowl he ignored the call, hiding his phone back in his suit. 

Oswald felt rather special to be worth Edward's undivided attention, though he had to wonder who was being ignored. With a smug smile, he led the other man into the parlour, instructing Olga to serve them when the food was delivered. In the meantime, he snapped his fingers to catch the attention of a nearby staff member, who lit a fire in the luxurious hearth and set up an elegant dining space before it. Twin armchairs with a table just large enough for plates and wine glasses, the latter of which were set out, a few bottles left for their choosing as the pair settled into their seats with a unanimous sigh of relief; It had been a long day, as many were lately. 

Their dinner was a comfortable affair. Edward was reminded of the time they spent in his apartment together, the budding friendship their shared over wine, Chinese food, and murder. He missed those days, where he would come home from work to find Oswald sprawled on his makeshift sofa, demanding dinner or attention. He missed his dearest friend. 

"Oswald…" he began but stopped, swallowing his words. 

The mayor looked up at him with wide blue eyes at the mention of his name, a dab of sauce on the tip of his hooked nose. "Hmm?" he hummed through a satisfying mouthful.

Edward chuckled softly, entirely endeared by the other man. He reached out with a napkin and wiped the sauce. "We might need to enrol his highness in etiquette lessons~" he teased, distracted from his original point. 

"Oh shut up, three minutes ago you dropped wine in your lap, I saw you- I just didn't say anything~" he teased, batting the napkin from Edward's hand playfully.

Edward flushed, but couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Fair~" he held up his hands in surrender. His phone buzzed again. Furious now he openly snarled and shut his phone off before putting it back in his pocket. 

"Someone's popular…~" Oswald crooned, resting his chin against a closed fist to bat his eyelashes in a delightfully petty manner. "Are you sure you shouldn't answer? It could be urgent," he prodded, refilling both of their wine glasses with a new selection before taking a hearty sip. He was growing far too at ease with the comfortable warmth of body and dizzying calm of mind, but Oswald was a hedonist at heart, eager to indulge at any moment- for it could be his last, after all.

"It's some intern with whom I've already spoken about using this line. It's for mayoral emergencies," he lied smoothly. 

"Ooh, I have a hotline," Oswald cooed, clearly too enamoured- and perhaps too intoxicated- to worry over whether or not the other man was being truthful. After all, why wouldn't Edward be honest with him? "Mayoral emergencies~" he repeated in delight, taking another hearty sip of his wine to drain the glass. 

Edward smiled thinly, and quickly steered discussion away from the now silenced phone. He drank heavily that evening, mind twisted round and round with vengeance, and feelings, and the knowledge of monsters lurking at the gates, both literal and figurative. On his fifth glass of expensive bardolino, Edward glanced up at Oswald over the feast of take-out. He was immediately reminded of their time in his apartment, their food crammed onto the small make-shift table Edward had fashioned out of a large spool of telephone wire. There was an inherent intimacy in every act in that loft, small as it was, that Edward had previously overlooked. Now, sitting so close to him once more before the roaring fire, he squirmed in the wing back chair, anxious knee bouncing beneath the table as his need for movement manifested itself. 

"Mr. Nygma~" Oswald purred, light eyes darkened by the width of his pupils as he gazed at Edward in rapt attraction, "My dutiful Chief of Staff, I expect you'll steer me to bed before long… It wouldn't do well for me to stay up too late, would it?" It was a veiled invitation for the other man to accompany him, perhaps to spend the night; an open invitation, one without parameter or definition. Edward was a necessary comfort, one that Oswlad wanted in whatever capacity could be offered. 

Edward looked up at Oswald, cheeks flushed with wine and the promise that Oswald’s words hid. He stood on unstable legs, looking like a new-born giraffe for a moment before he righted himself. He offered a hand to the mayor, knowing Olga would take care of the mess from their dinner. 

The mayor leaned against him heavily, admiring the warm scent of Edward's expensive cologne- a gift he received when Oswald furnished his new accommodations. "My leg is a bit sore" he excused, pressing a bit closer as the pair clambered down the hall to the shorter man's bedroom.

Edward helped Oswald into the bedroom, trying not to stumble as the other leaned his weight against him. He laughed, catching himself and the other man against the wall when he inevitably wavered. He held Oswald against his chest gently, the other man's cheek buried against his shoulder. "Oh dear~" he chuckled, trying to right himself, even as the room spun a bit.

The wobbly action evoked an equally amused giggle, "I think we might have had a bit too much~" he murmured playfully, tilting his head to whisper into Edward's ear as he stood on his toes a moment. His legs protested the action, and he pressed the other man against the wall as he lost balance. "Almost there," he urged, tugging Edward along with a wry smile.

They managed to bumble their way down the hall noisily until they ambled into Oswald's bedroom, both giggling at their respective wobblings. They collapsed onto the bed, Edward's arms wrapping around Oswald snugly. "I've done a poor job of getting the mayor to bed," he laughed, shoulders shaking with the strain of his merriment. He toed off his shoes, brain too foggy to devise a suitable plan for the rest of his attire.

"No, no this is perfect," Oswald slurred happily, quick to remove his belt and toss it away from the bed with a clatter. His pants soon followed, cotton bottoms of his union suit peeking out from beneath his remaining shirt and tie. "Much better… ahh best part of the day, taking off the pants…"

Edward laughed, burying his nose in Oswald's soft hair as the other man wiggled and writhed his way free of his trousers. Clumsy long fingers trailed up Oswald's side and over his chest to begin undoing his tie. He turned onto his side, leaning over Oswald as he continued his work with the other man's shirt, revealing the smooth pale skin of his shoulders and chest. Without thought, he leaned down, hot mouth pressing kisses over the constellation of freckles adorning Oswald's skin. 

Oswald gasped softly in delight, his own fingers clumsily working at the buttons of Edward's shirt as he was peppered with soft, hot kisses. "Eddie…~" he whined softly, mind spinning. "That, that tickles." Unbeknownst to him, his palms were already roving the other man's soft sides beneath the crips white fabric, fingertips exploring the soft angles of Edward's torso.

Edward buried his face in Oswald's neck, hands pushing his shirt off him before tossing it to the floor with a quiet chuckle. He didn't have much experience with matters of the flesh, but he knew that Oswald's hands on his body felt amazing and he craved more contact. Ever cautious of the other man's injured knee he shifted to straddle his lap, sitting tall for a moment as he surveyed his friend with a lustful stare. 

The smaller of the two looked up with wide eyes, cheeks flushed pink as his hands settled against Edward's sides gently. "Will you kiss me?" he asked softly, scarcely more than a breath. They had shared a few in their time together, but none so reckless and earnest as Oswald tugged him down by the open collar to kiss him hungrily, drunken mind eager to feel, touch and consume.

Edward groaned against Oswalds lips, leaning his body flush against the other man's as he allowed himself to be utterly overtaken. He could not help but ground his hips down against Oswald, cock pressing almost painfully against the line of his zip.

"Ungh…" an undignified sound slipped from somewhere within the bubbling pits of his stomach, the thin white cotton of his underwear straining against the press of his cock, pink and weeping as Edward moved against him. 

With a huff of indignation, Edward fumbled between their bodies until he managed to push his pants down far enough to free his cock. His hand brushed and groped along the front of Oswald's shorts, feeling the tell-tale twitch of arousal from the other man. 

It felt too good to object as Edward's long fingers squeezed the shaft of his clock firmly when he came across it, rising up off the mattress with a whine. He fumbled with a few buttons, allowing the other man inside his union suit with a harried grasp as the fabric parted to reveal his pale, scarred chest. 

For perhaps the first time in his life Edward didn't have a cacophony of thoughts swirling around his mind. He focused on the feeling of Oswald's hands caressing down his chest, his lips pressing against his sensitive neck and shoulder. He pulled the other man close, hips rolling down against him as a litany of groans and praise fell from his lips. 

The pair seemed to meld together, skin slicked with sweat as they rut against one another eagerly, each desperate for the crescendo that would end in satisfaction. Oswald begged him softly for more, anything he had to offer, sucking a dark purple mark over Edward's collar with a vicious grin. 

Edward held Oswald firmly against him, grinding down until there was nothing behind his eyelids but blinding white pleasure, and nothing on his tongue but Oswald's name. 

In an amount of time he would later recall to be embarrassingly short, the newly elected mayor whimpered and a sticky puddle of cum spread between them, a startled moan escaping his lips as he realized he'd come to orgasm from humping alone. 

Edward gazed down at Oswald's face, felt the body beneath him tremble and arch against him in bliss, and soon he was biting his release into Oswald's shoulder to stifle the cry of his name. He collapsed against the other man, both sticky and sated. "Mmm, Oswald…" He settled down against his side, hoping through the fog in his mind that Oswald would not kick him out.

"I fear we may have a mess to clean in the morning," Oswald squeaked, ears pink as he shimmied out of the rest of his clothing to retreat beneath the cool sheets, peeling one side back in quiet invitation. He had grown used to the other man's company during the time he spent recovering in the scientist's apartment, and now it seemed to be just what he needed; a quiet companion to share the night with.

Edward threw off the rest of his clothes before crawling into bed with Oswald. He knew he would be mortified by the mess in the morning, but right now he could not care any less about it. Oswald cuddled up to his side, small dark head resting on his shoulder as Edward wrapped his arms around him. He closed his eyes a moment in perfect contentment. 

What has four eyes, but can't see~

His eyes flew open, heart racing as he glanced down at Oswald. "Oh dear," he breathed into the soft hair tickling his lips. The warmth suffusing his chest, the increase in heart rate, the feeling like a balloon swelling in the pit of his stomach about to pop any moment…he had felt these things before. When he looked down at his friend, dark lashes fluttering against his pale freckled cheek, pink lips slightly parted as he breathed against his shoulder, fingers curling against Edward's side to hold him close, he was filled with such a sense of peace that his eyes began to sting. 

What has four eyes, but can't see what's right in front of him? Ed Nygma!

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and shut his eyes tight against reality. He was far too intoxicated to deal with this nonsense and would sort himself out in the morning. 

With one last kiss to the crown of the mayor's head, he slipped into an uneasy slumber.

Oswald awoke the next morning feeling comfortably warm, and it took a few moments to realize anything was amiss… until he registered the sound of another heartbeat in the bed with him. Cracking his eyes open he was met with the soft slumbering face of his dear friend, hair curled near the temples where he had been sweaty. His breath hitched in his throat as he simply watched the rise and fall of his chest, savoring the closeness before Edward woke.

Edward fought the light coming in behind his eyelids, dragging him from the most pleasant dream. He groaned, cuddling against the soft warmth curled against his side, and refused to wake just yet. 

Oswald smiled faintly, daring to nestle into the crook of the other man's neck with a soft groan. His head ached a bit more than usual, and he hoped someone had put the coffee on as he continued basking in the quiet, timid company of his new lover.

"What goes 'round the house and in the house but never touches the house?" Edward mumbled, nose buried in Oswald's hair. 

"Mm… The sun, isn't it?" He offered shyly, noting how the sun shone through the curtains faintly as it rose. "Good morning," he breathed, unwilling to pull away from the other man immediately.

"Correct," he muttered, turning his cheek to Nestle further between Oswald's soft hair and the silky pillow. "You're the king, make it go away."

Amused, Oswald shifted over him warmly, pale freckled and scarred back exposed as he reached for the curtain tie and gave it a firm yank, plunging them into a more acceptable dim lighting. He slipped back beside Edward, finding the warmth comfortable, and safe. "Better?" he whispered, pressing a tentative kiss to Edward's cheek.

Now that the light wasn't distracting him with throbbing pain with every blink, he turned towards Oswald and cupped his cheek as he returned the kiss. "Good morning, indeed, Mr. Mayor~"

"How are you feeling?" Oswald inquired, curious to find whether or not Edward was feeling comfortable waking up hungover beside his new 'boyfriend', and flushed as he recalled the hurried act of lust they had committed before collapsing together. "Like a cat has died in my mouth, and in an act of vengeance its owner ran over my head," he replied softly. "I trust your faring better than I?" 

"Well it isn't my first hangover and I doubt it will be my last… would you- would you like to take a shower with me?" he ventured boldly, with the ulterior motive of having assistance washing- his knee ached badly from his wanton wriggling the night before. "I need to freshen up before I face the day," he added, as though he did not primarily wish to wash the dried ejaculate from his thighs and stomach. 

“We definitely need it,” Edward murmured, cheeks a dull red as he staunchly ignored the way the skin on his stomach seemed to pull oddly with every breath. He was usually much more meticulous about being clean. “Though, I’m not certain it is prudent to take one together unless there’s a seat in your shower it’ll only fatigue your leg more.” 

"There is," he admitted, rather embarrassed by his need for handicap accessories. "But if you would prefer your own morning routine you are welcome to it," Oswald added quickly, unsure of Edward's expression. It was difficult to decide how comfortable to allow himself to grow around the other man, though he longed for the simplicity of the days in Edward's apartment.

Edward turned on his side with a barely repressed wince, and looked at Oswald, trying to ascertain the deeper meaning behind his words. Did Oswald prefer he leave, clean himself up so that they could continue through the day, unhindered by awkward feeling? Or perhaps he wished him to stay, last night opening up a new avenue in their relationship, such as it was. Would it be wrong to ask outright? Had he been silent too long? He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, unable to form the wild thoughts in his head into anything resembling coherent language. 

The smaller of the pair sat up with a soft groan and a stretch, his black locks mussed and sticking in all directions not unlike a ruffled crow. "Either way… it would be nice to have you for breakfast."

Edward's mind calmed slightly and he nodded. "Breakfast sounds good." He sat up and turned, bare feet touching the plush carpeting. He stood with a groan very slowly, head pressed against his temple. "Though maybe after I evacuate the acids in my stomach making me nauseous…" 

He grabbed Oswald’s robe from the wardrobe and quickly fled the room. He did not encounter anyone else, thankfully, as he had no explanation for his state of dress or the sickly pallor of his skin. When he made it to his rooms he immediately ran to the bathroom, falling to his knees by the toilet. 

It was almost an hour before he left his rooms again, dressed and ready for the day. He had scrubbed the evidence of his and Oswald’s time together from his skin and was determined not to let it affect his dealings with the other man. Surely Oswald was intoxicated, the alcohol addling his inhibitions and making Edward look like a better prospect to share a bed with than he truly was. They didn’t speak of it over breakfast, but the air between them had definitely shifted. 

He was certain Oswald would grow bored of him in time. Best not to get too close while that was happening, despite what his other half thought of the situation.


	4. Bang

Over the next few weeks Edward threw himself into his work, helping the mayor reconcile the Tetch problem, and ultimately owing the credit for his capture once again to Jim-fucking-Gordon. The detective was such a thorn in his side that when he arrived unannounced a week after Tetch’s capture Edward almost did not let him through the front door. 

“What do you want, Jimbo?” he asked with a soft sneer. 

“Mayor Cobblepot demoted you to doorman?” he asked with a chuckle. “It suits you.” 

He snarled. “Listen here, you imbecilic--” 

“Edward,” Oswald called from the top of the stairwell, dressed impeccably well in a finely tailor brocade suit in the deepest plum. “Show him to the office, please. I shall be with him in a moment.” 

A polite smile twisted onto Edward’s lips as he nodded at Oswald. “Of course, Mayor Cobblepot. Right this way, sir,” he gritted out to Jim, gesturing to him to follow him along the hall into Oswald’s downstairs office, the one reserved for guests. When Edward entered after him Jim looked nonplussed, trying to protest his stay. 

They began to shout obscenities at each other just as Oswald walked in. “Edward, be civil with the detective. It is not his fault he relies so heavily on us.” 

“Oswald, I need to speak with you--” 

“I had gathered as much from your unscheduled visit.” 

Edward smirked from beside him. 

“Privately,” he emphasised, looking to Edward. 

“Mr. Nygma is my chief of staff and is privy to everything you say to me. Please proceed with what I assume is very important information, or cease wasting my time.” 

He scowled, but began, asking Oswald about Dock 9-C; a shipment that was coming in that had the potential to be very dangerous. By Jim’s cryptic answers, and shifty eyes Edward ascertained that whatever this shipment was, and Jim clearly didn’t know, no mere criminal was responsible for it. Something bigger had rattled Gordon, and suddenly as if through a fog, Edward remembered something Strange had let slip during his time in Arkham. A powerful organization that worked in the shadows to control all of Gotham City. Bruce Wayne, though a child, had not seemed to know about such an organization, which led Edward to deduce that such powerful people were above even the Wayne family. 

As Jim and Oswald squabbled, Oswald on the winning edge, Edward began to catalogue whatever information he could glean from their conversation. This was the one riddle that got away. The Riddle of who truly runs Gotham. 

Once the detective had left, Edward’s brain was fast at work, devising a plan for Oswald to take that shipment for himself. If they could smoke out whatever group seemed to be at the center of the city, they would cement themselves forever within its power structure. Oswald would truly rule with Edward by his side. 

Over the next few weeks he built himself a laboratory near the docks, the more mischievous part of himself delighting in finally getting to exercise some of the more devious aspects of their personality. He tortured a few people for information, laborers on the dock, crewman, a merchant or two. No one had any information about the contents of the shipment coming in dock 9-C. 

He was beginning to spend more and more time away from the manor, but he always returned in the evenings, Oswald distracting his busy mind with kind words and sweet kisses. Often, they would spend the night wrapped in each other's arms, and Edward was beginning to feel more comfortable in the role he’d chosen. So what if it had been born of false words and sworn vengeance. Oswald did not know that, and the sentiment was sincere now. He truly cared for the other man. There hadn’t been any simpering love confessions, but lying beside him late at night he would whisper it into his dark hair before falling asleep.

With such distractions, however, he forgot about the enemy close to the gate. While he was out gathering supplies for his plans, Barbara slipped into the manor to have a little chat with Oswald. She found him in his study, quietly going over paperwork for the city. She knocked on the door, but entered regardless, standing confidently in a lavish snowy sequined dress. “Mr. Mayor? Might you have time to speak to one of your loyal constituents?” 

Instantly on alert at the unannounced entry, Oswald moved a gun from its place beneath the desk to his lap, palming it carefully as he recognized the visitor. "Most people make an appointment," he said with an icy smile. "What brings you here this afternoon, Barbara?"

"I'm waving a white flag~" She shook her hips, the sequins glimmering in the light. She strutted over to the chairs before Oswald's desk, flopping over the arm to rest comfortably in the soft leather seat. Her long legs sat dangling over the arm of the chair; the woman seemed perfectly at ease. "No need to be so prickly, Ossie, I come bearing news."

He was quick to conceal his weapon between the arm of the chair and the cushion, wrinkling his nose at her comfort in his presence. "You couldn't have called? I have plans, you know," he murmured, managing to sound pleasant despite the edge in his words.

"Plans with your chief of staff?" she asked, looking over at the Mayor through lidded eyes.

"I meet with Mr. Nygma every evening to go over my agenda for the following day," he replied easily.

Drinks and ice cream, daily agendas, who was really keeping track of the details?

"He made an appointment," Oswald smirked.

"He certainly did, but not in the way you're thinking, sweet Penguin. He's planning to betray you." She let that statement hang in the air, a dangerous accusation to make of anyone close to the penguin, let alone someone that close to him.

Oswald narrowed his eyes, heart skipping a beat as the mere thought crossed his mind. 

"A bold statement from someone with a flawless record of loyalty like yourself," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Why should I believe you?"

She kicked her legs in the air, turning to face Oswald fully as she crossed her legs at the knee. As in everything Barbara did the move was fluid and graceful. "You should believe me because I was the one he was conspiring with, but," she added quickly as she saw a twitch of Oswald's arm toward his gun. "I've had a change of heart. Butch and Tabs are driving me absolutely crazy, and I'd rather not go to Arkham again for a double homicide. Your continued rule is far better than whatever bullshit they have cooking up with Edward. I just thought you ought to know that Ed can’t be trusted. Call it a conciliation, and an apology." 

She knew that with Oswald’s temper he would immediately go after the string bean, the two opposing forces tearing each other apart in the process. Once they killed each other Oswald's empire would be in ruin, leaving Barbara to ascend the throne.

Knuckles shaking white around the grip of his weapon, Oswald pounded his other hand on the desk with a closed fist and a snarl. 

It couldn't be a lie, not after this long. Surely if Edward planned to do something nefarious he would have done it long before the nights they had shared together. His chief of staff had plenty of opportunities to destroy him, yet had only been an attribute to his work. 

Barbara was trying to stir dissent, there wasn't a single reason he could think she would bother to say anything, and yet- Oswald glanced at the clock. Edward would return to the manor soon for their date night, and he would ask him plainly. His heart ached at the thought of betrayal after exposing the more tender parts of himself to the other man. 

Mustering himself, he retreated to his bedroom, freshening up his appearance at the vanity before moving downstairs to the parlor, where two crystal glasses were already set out by the armchairs, a fire flowing warmly in the hearth.

Edward returned from his private lab after a long day of searching out the central powers of Gotham. He felt he was getting so close to an answer, and yet he could not find concrete evidence as to the identities of the members of the group. It was entirely frustrating, and he had spent more than one sleepless night trying to smoke them out. 

He saw the fire lit in the hearth and approached Oswald with a small smile. For as frustrating as he found this seemingly unanswerable conundrum, Oswald could always make him smile and relax. "Good evening, Mr. Mayor~" he murmured, a lilt to his tone. He leaned over and kissed him warmly on the cheek.

Oswald, despite his attempts to assure himself that everything was as it seemed, was unable to keep from stiffening, nervous breath thick with whiskey. 

"Ed, I need to ask you something," he murmured, his throat suddenly dry.

Edward stood back, weary of Oswald's tone. "Yes, Oswald?"

"I had an unannounced visit... from Barbara," he began sharply, studying the other man carefully as he spoke. Within the deep pockets of his house coat was the heavy metal weight of his gun.

He blanched, the colour draining completely from his face. He felt dizzy for a moment as Oswald's cold blue eyes locked onto his. 

That bitch sold him out.

He held up his hands, mind rapidly cataloging the room for escape or viable weapons. "I can explain..."

Heart wrenching at the other man's easy admission of guilt, his trembling fingers encircled the familiar grip of his gun. 

No, no, he didn't want to shoot Edward, but now- now he had to, didn't he? 

"So it's true then?" he asked, swallowing an uneasy gulp of air as his weary blue eyes trained themselves on the other man.

"Yes," he rasped, throat tight as he regarded Oswald.

"I want to hear you tell me," he trembled, slowly revealing his weapon to train it upon the other man. 

He looked utterly heartbroken, tears beginning to bead in the corners of his eyes as he waited, desperately hoping that maybe it was a misunderstanding.

His eyes flickered from Oswald to the gun in his hand. His chest rose and fell rapidly, a sheen of sweat prickling over his brow. He disliked being taken by surprise, being caught wrong-footed. "Oswald, you don't understand..."

"Then make me understand!" he hissed, gesturing with the gun wildly, his words slurring from his lips. "I wanted to have ice cream " Oswald continued, tone mournful, yet spiteful. "I wanted to drink and carry on, I liked being vulnerable with you because I thought you were the one person I could trust..."

"I thought I could trust you!" Edward shouted back, disliking the high road Oswald had taken. "You murdered my girlfriend!"

"Her again? Really? I thought we were past that!" he snarled, vein throbbing in his forehead. "I thought you'd forgiven me- was that part of the lie?" Oswald rose unevenly, filled with a white-hot rage that seemed to burn him entirely hollow. "You don't love me! You let me think you loved me!" His voice was shrill, escalating in volume as he took several uneven, violent steps toward Edward, brandishing his weapon.

"Oswald," he raised his hands in surrender. "Please take a breath, let me explain..." As Oswald charged forward with a heartbroken wail, Edward grabbed his arm, the two of them grappling for control. "I don't want to hurt you. Please, please! Put the gun down!"

Oswald was deceptively strong, pushing against Edward as the other man tried to pry the weapon from his fingers. It was stuck between their bodies, both men pleading and snarling as they struggled.

Bang!

Edward stopped and stood back, the gun falling at his feet as Oswald fell to his knees. Red blossomed through the linen of his shirt, and Edward, fearing for his life, ran.

Vision darkening around the edges, Oswald was only vaguely aware of the tearing pain in his side, crying out in anguish as he curled on himself. He reached towards Edward's retreating form desperately.


	5. A Puppet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very Edward centric. It also contains a bit of blood and violence, so please be warned if that's something that squicks you.

After fleeing the manor, Edward fell hard into his work. He fortified his lab against any possible threat from the power struggles and bids for Oswald’s throne. Could no one see that it was all meaningless!? None of those meager players had any power if there was a centralized group holding the strings. He became a man obsessed, shutting out any other thoughts or emotions that distracted from his primary goal. 

He did not wish to think about Oswald's clear blue eyes gazing up at him in terror and pain. The red soaking through his expensive shirt and across the marble floor as he still tried desperately to avenge his feelings. His dearest friend had died hating him, and it tortured Edward if he lingered on it too long. 

Instead, he tried, in vain, to track down any leads as to the group's identity, or at least ascertain some concrete evidence of their existence. Holed up in his laboratory, he combed through every file, newspaper article, and court document he could get his hands on. Old city charters, real estate documents, and tax files he had managed to hack were no use either, and he was becoming increasingly paranoid that he would never find the answer. 

He popped a small blue pill into his mouth, swallowing it on reflex without the aid of water. He sat down heavily on the stool by his work bench and put his head in his hands. 

"Not quite so easy doing things alone, is it?" A snide voice asked from the corner of his periphery. 

"I cannot begin to describe my enthusiasm at having you deign to join me," Edward mumbled through his fingers.

The phantom rolled his eyes, crimson dripping from him to the concrete floor grimly as he approached Edward. He laid a hand on his shoulder, and if Edward thought about it enough he could feel the warmth from his touch. "Edward, listen to me. This is madness. You're not sleeping, you're taking drugs, you are seeing hallucinations of your best friend…"

Edward turned, staring into those stormy blue eyes as he barely listened to the words coming out of Oswald's mouth. 

"Ed… Edward!" The specter snapped in front of his face. "You need to stop this." He gestured to the maps, charts, and documents that lined the walls. Plans made over many a sleepless night that never came to fruition. One article caught Edward's attention in particular: 

Gotham Elects Interim Mayor Aubrey James. 

Surely a mayor who had served the city for well over two decades might have some information about such a mysterious group. 

"Edward, whatever you're thinking, and, of course, I know exactly what it is, don't do--"

"Oswald! I admit that killing you killed a part of me," he rasped, his whole form trembling. "But I will find a way forward no matter the cost. Isn't that what you're always espousing? Perseverance in the face of all odds?" 

"Yes," said the specter, lily-white hands pressing against the vivid open wound on his stomach. "But look where it got me." 

Ignoring Oswald's advice landed his elaborate plan with a jammed detonator inside the G.C.P.D, Jim Gordon’s smug face grinning down from the top of the bullpen. 

That bastard had the audacity to approach, even as Edward pulled a gun. 

“I’ll admit, I didn’t see this coming. But! That doesn’t change anything!” Edward growled, gun held aloft as he stalked towards Jim. “I want to know who the Court is!” He turned the gun on the mayor with a snarl. “Or Aubrey dies.” Jim began to reach into his pocket, forcing Edward to point the gun back at him. He was fast losing control of the situation, and he hated it. “Don’t!” 

Jim held up a set of car keys, causing a smile to slowly wind its way onto Edward’s lips. “You want to know who runs Gotham? Then take a ride with me. But, if you pull that trigger, you’ll never get the answers you’re looking for.” 

His smile widened to a manic grin. “You fool me once, Jim.” He clicked his tongue, as if chastising a child. “You fool me twice,” he snarled, training the gun back on Aubrey. “Well that’s just not gonna happen!” 

“Then the riddle will go unsolved,” he replied calmly. 

Edward stopped, glancing at Jim for a moment before lifting the weapon, Aubrey running for his life. “Fine. Let’s go.” 

It had taken four successful escapes from the primitive birdcage to learn the layout of the labyrinthine lair the Court had Edward stashed in, but he would be damned if he was going to sit about and wait for the answers he had gone to so much trouble to get. On his fifth attempt, he exited his cage with a purloined hairpin and a long wire he had broken from the bar. Creeping down the dark hallway, he had surmised days ago that he was in some sort of underground facility, similar in fashion, he supposed, to Indian Hill. This meant that The Court had connections to the monsters that had plagued the city, and Hugo Strange. 

Striding twenty paces forward he came to a fork in the hallway and took a left, then four paces north, another left through an entrance with the squeaky grate in the floor, and then quickly into an unlocked room. The room held nothing of interest, and Edward’s time exploring was not nearly up as the guards would not be making their rounds again for another half an hour. Glancing around, Edward decided to take the door at the far end of the room and slipped through it into another hall. 

At the end of the hallway was a large iron door, it stood out ominously against the brick and aged wood flooring. Too industrial to have been an original installation. Glancing back over his shoulder briefly, Edward took three long strides towards the door, reaching it within a moment. The door was sealed completely. There were no hinges or gaps to exploit. On the wall to the left of the door was a coded cipher. Edward studied it a moment, a gleam in his eyes at the challenge. At last, something to do to keep his mind occupied! 

His eyes roved over the numbers quickly. Noting the degree of deterioration of specific numbers, he calculated the most likely passcode with absurd ease. Smiling to himself with glee, he entered the code and heard the metallic grinding of old mechanized machinery at work. There was nothing quite like a well-working puzzle! 

Once inside, Edward groped the wall for the circuit switch, bathing the vast room in light. Row by row large tubes were illuminated, bodies floating in stasis. His eyes widened as he shut the door behind him, grinning like a child at Christmas. “Fascinating!” 

He followed the central row, looking at each person with a critical eye until he came upon one that made him frown. “Gertrude Kapelput...What are you doing here?” By all accounts, Oswald’s mother was dead. Raising a brow, he crouched down to read the sign below, the date of her ‘inception’ as well as her purpose. 

And wasn’t that an interesting word? 

Edward’s fingers twitched at the presence of a new puzzle. This clearly was not the original Gertrude Kapelput, a clone then? So, his initial assessment about Indian Hill and Strange had been correct, and he would have leaped for proverbial joy if that knowledge hadn’t felt like lead in his stomach. 

He stood straight and looked back at Gertrude, one hand adjusting his glasses. Well, at the very least, Oswald had never had to make this discovery. He was with his sainted mother, the real one, now. 

He didn’t wish to dwell on thoughts of the other man. The past few months spent either completely ignoring what had transpired, as much as he was able with visions of the other man haunting him, as he threw himself into his work, or wallowing in misery during the long lonely nights. He had pushed forward despite what happened, just as he did with Miss Kringle, with Isabella...it was quite clear now that Edward could never grow fond of another person, or they were doomed from the outset. 

He moved through the tubes, noting various Gotham elite. What was the price, Edward wondered, of immortality? While ruminating on whether or not it was true immortality if the clone was a separate entity, he stumbled upon a face he never thought he’d see again. Swallowing a scream, he fell back in the aisle, landing hard on his backside to stare up into the mangled face of Isabella. 

“Wha-how…” She was precisely as he remembered her. The lividity in her skin was not helped by whatever fluid they were keeping them in, the orbital fracture she had suffered was hanging grimly, forcing her cheekbone to protrude from the side of her face. The red of her hair, still so similar to Miss Kringle’s…

Edward tore his eyes away and forced himself to look at her description: 

Inception date: April 19-- 

Edward couldn’t breathe; he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as he stood on shaking legs. 

A clone.

Isabella had been a clone! 

Back in his cell, Edward leaned heavily on the bars of the cage, chest rising and falling rapidly. The image of Krist--Isabella! floating in stasis burned in the back of his mind as he cried out thunderously in frustration, slamming his hand against the unforgiving metal. Edward’s brain was working overtime now, eyes glossy and unfocused as he began to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

He had been released (rescued, a sharp voice at the back of his mind supplied unhelpfully) from Arkham in March, and Oswald’s victory was assured in the special election by the end of that month. 

April. 

The concept for Isabella must have been conceived by the Court, no doubt in conjunction with what Strange had been able to glean from Edward during his stay in Arkham, as a means of separating him from Oswald, distracting him so that Oswald would be easier to topple. He had never been meant to win that election. Surely Aubrey James was easier to control, to manipulate. Oswald was intelligent, ambitious, and not easily swayed by a secret society of elite ancient founders. Isabella had been nothing more than a pawn used to weaken the king via his knight. 

This time he was unable to hold back the bile as it rose hot and heavy through his throat and onto the floor with a choked cry. He had done their work for them like a fool; fallen for their trap like a puppet on a string, and Oswald was dead for his idiocy. His best friend, the man who had saved him from Arkham, saved him from loneliness, from mediocrity, from himself, was gone. With a shuddering cry, he fell to his knees, arms clinging to the bars of the cage as he apologized to the dark and empty cell. 

Edward lost track of time after that, sitting in the corner of his cell as the days turned into nights, the guards paying little mind to his state, and the court seemingly having more important things to worry about than Edward wasting away. Heavy eyelids began to droop as exhaustion took hold, and though sleep was never pleasant, Edward began to sink into the darkness all the same. 

“You cannot do this to me!” shouted an all too familiar voice, jarring him from his oblivion. “I demand to speak to the person in charge!” 

Edward’s stupefied limbs protested his quick movements as he rose to his feet. He ignored the dense fog in his brain, swaying slightly as he gazed upon an irate and shouting Oswald. His chest heaved as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He breathed the name of the man before him, lips trembling with the strain. 

“Y-You’re alive?” 

The other man whipped around, a tense silence filling the air between them as Oswald strode forward, their eyes locked. Edward shut his mouth to keep from gaping openly. Reaching the bars, the former mayor threw his arm between their cells, grasping for Edward with a deadly look in his eye. Edward jumped back, mouth set in a grim line as he regarded his former friend. 

“How did you survive?” he asked, looking at his friend up and down as if to assess the validity of his sudden appearance. 

“In shooting me, Ed, you gave me something to live for: revenge,” Oswald smirked, smug and pompous as ever. Edward narrowed his eyes behind his spectacles, ever practical, his old friend. 

“Yes...Unless.” He shot forward, hand smacking against Oswald’s forehead. Not a hallucination, then, good. This Oswald was not here for his purgation. Then perhaps… “Tell me something only the real Oswald would know,” he whispered furiously. 

“Wh-What...if this is another one of your Riddles, Ed...” 

“No! Something I said to you that only Oswald Cobblepot would know. Something only between us.” 

Oswald regarded him with a raised brow. Perhaps the Court had done something to him, altered him somehow? He wracked his brain for a suitable answer as Edward rubbed his eyes, turning away from Oswald entirely. “The first riddle you ever told me, the answer was nothing.” 

Edward looked up, nodding before sitting slowly down in the corner of his cell with his head in his hands. He was all elbows and knees, scrunched up in the corner, a gangly trembling triangle that looked up at Oswald with dark eyes like a bottomless pit. 

“Did you find the answers you sought, Ed?” Oswald asked viciously, resting his back against the bars of the cage. 

Edward let out a deep shuddering breath, fingers tearing at his hair. “Yes, and no,” he laughed desperately. “Why are you here?” 

“To kill you,” he replied sharply. Edward nodded, eyes drifting up to the apparent cage separating the two of them. Oswald huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Obviously this is not part of the plan, Edward!” 

“Obviously…” 

“You shouldn’t talk. How does one shoot a man point-blank and fail to kill him?” 

Edward pulled a sour face and refused to meet Oswald’s eyes. “It was all a lie anyway,” he muttered. 

“Good to hear you admit it finally,” Oswald grumbled. 

“No!" he screamed, causing Oswald's eyes to widen, jaw falling open in shock. "Isabella, her feelings for me, her very existence! All a lie!” he raised his head, speaking clearly and angrily. 

“What? Edward, you’ve lost me. What did the Court tell you?” 

"Oh, willing to listen to me now that you're sober and unarmed?" he asked with a snarl. Scoffing, he shook his head with a jerky motion, gaze wavering briefly to the camera positioned over Oswald’s shoulder. “Nothing, they told me nothing. They’ve been letting me explore. I have not worked out why yet, but I suspect it is a test of some sort. Like a mouse in a maze.” 

“I’m not following...” Oswald replied dully, ignoring Edward's earlier comment in favour of assessing his odd behavior. Had they broken Edward? Had Strange done something to his brilliant mind? 

Edward let out an exasperated huff. “Katheryn! The Court! They’re making clones, Oswald! People who’ve died, people who were-- who are essential in Gotham!” He stood, beginning to pace irritably. He did not regard Oswald, as the other man gazed at him with a combination of confusion and concern. 

“Edward, slow down.” 

The young man stopped, chest rising and falling rapidly. He was pale, eyes heavily lidded, marked by days without sleep. His whole frame trembled and shook, and even in Arkham Oswald had not seen him look so terribly unkempt. “Isabella was a clone, Oswald. They...designed her, made her, to look like Kristen. I presume to distract me from helping you take over Gotham fully.” 

Oswald’s eyes widened, the color draining from his cheeks. Then, he began to laugh, a soft chortle at first, as if incredulous, then nearly maniacal as he threw his head back, clutching at his sides and doubling over in front of Edward. The other man stepped back as he observed his former friend, aggrieved by his laughter. "It's not funny in the slightest!" he shouted. 

"You..." he gasped between giggles. "You lied to me, made me believe in a relationship that wasn't true from the beginning. Shot me, and left me to die! All for a woman who wasn’t real! You absolute fucking moron!" 

Edward paled further, offended by Oswald's last words. "It's not as if she had wires hanging from her, Oswald!" he hissed, turning away from the other man so that he could not see how deeply his words had affected him. "You betrayed me instead of telling me about your feelings. As for our relationship, such as it was-" He made a vague hand gesture in front of himself, Oswald looking less than impressed.

"Save it, Ed. I don't need to hear any more of your lies."

Edward took a deep breath, snapping his jaw shut before he said something else he'd regret. "All right... I'm sorry, Oswald. For whatever that's worth to you. For everything that transpired. We were both victims of this," he gestured to their current predicament. "And I think it's quite clear that unless we cease squabbling, The Court is going to succeed in eliminating us both, or using us for whatever nefarious purpose they wish. According to the guard's gossip, The Court is planning some sort of attack on the city." 

"Fine then, we escape together?" 

Edward narrowed his eyes, looking Oswald up and down with no small amount of apprehension. He knew that no one did half of what he had to Oswald and lived, and so his trepidation in trusting the other man was well deserved. Surely he wanted to enact some sort of revenge? 

"Fine, but there need to be rules." 

Oswald appraised him with a smirk, respecting the other man's apparent caution when in the face of such a dangerous and wily opponent. He approached the bars, watching in satisfaction as Edward stepped closer conspiratorially. 

Just like the good old days. 

"No sabotage." 

"Of course." 

"And no murder on the premises," Edward added, watching for Oswald's reaction with narrowed eyes. 

He inclined his head with a tell-tale sneer; his blue eyes cold and hard. "Agreed." 

Edward swallowed around the lump in his throat. So, Oswald was planning to exact revenge. He supposed he could not blame him. He had ruined his empire, his mayorship, toyed with his affections, and left him for dead. "Also there needs to be a six-hour window post-escape," Edward added quickly. "If I get outside and I'm worrying about you stabbing my neck, I won't be able to concentrate, and that's not good." 

Oswald rolled his eyes. "Agreed, reluctantly." 

"Then we help each other escape, together?" He extended his hand through the bar, an olive branch in the dark, damp cell, and one Edward was offering to Oswald first. 

Oswald grasped Edward's hand firmly, feeling very real and alive against his palm as he breathed the word, "Deal." 

Watching Oswald work again had been a thing of beauty to be sure. His viciousness, brutality, and exacting precision were breathtaking and Edward was in danger once or twice of losing a step or being struck as he watched his former friend out of his periphery. Someone knocked Oswald to the floor, sweeping his damaged leg out from under him. Without pause or thought Edward turned on his heels and charged toward the pair, slashing the throat of the guard looming over Oswald. Breathing hard, he looked down in concern at the other man, trying in vain to swallow his worry.

Silently he offered his hand, pulling him to his feet with minimum effort. Once outside, Edward looked down at Oswald with a smirk, their blood-soaked grins glinting off the trash fire illuminating the alley. He looked wearily at the knife in Oswald’s grasp and murmured, "The truce still holds for another five hours..."

Wiping a fleck of blood from his lip, Oswald nodded slowly. "Four hours and forty-eight minutes," he said quietly, looking up from his watch to survey the other man with haunting blue-green eyes.

Edward bit his lip, ignoring the taste of blood.

Do it, Eddie. Now is your chance. He’s alive! Don’t be a coward! DO IT!

He strode forward, dropping his knife with a clang and took Oswald into his arms, melding their lips together in a desperate, breathtaking kiss.

As Edward approached, Oswald was instantly on alert. As he found himself backed against the brick of the alley wall, he socked Edward in the stomach soundly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed, taking Edward tightly by the front of his jumpsuit to flip their positions in a surprising show of strength.

"You shot me, left me for dead," he growled, body raising with adrenaline as he scowled up at the other man, lips burning.

Edward winced, air leaving his lungs. "F-fair..." he groaned. He looked down at Oswald, dark eyes swimming with regret and anguish. "Killing you...or rather shooting you...was not what I intended. It...fractured me, and I...have been searching for clarity ever since. Tonight...with you has been the first time since that day in the manor that I've felt like myself."

"So you think you can kiss me and make it all better?!"

In truth, Oswald had never stopped loving the other man, but that love had been treated as a weight around his shoulders, something to be resented.

"For a smart man you're incredibly stupid," he murmured, chest pressed firmly against Edward's as he rose up on his toes. "Do I really owe you a truce? I should gut you here, rip your heart out with my teeth..." his voice was low- dangerous, yet hinted at something more sensual. 

He brought a hand to Edward's face slowly, grip bruising as he yanked the taller man's gaze downward to devour his mouth selfishly. It was what he was owed, what he deserved!

Edward swallowed, enamored with the dangerous look in Oswalds eyes. Something within him shifted and he groaned heavily at the feeling of Oswald's fingers bruising the white of his cheeks. "Ossie," he crooned, utterly at his mercy. "I deserve your wrath. Gut me. Rend my heart from my chest, hold the beating organ in your hand and squeeze it to dust. I'm nothing without you," he admitted.

"Shut up," he hissed furiously, yanking Edward by the wrist into the nearest dilapidated building, "I don't want to hear your apologies, you destroyed me, you stupid man!" 

The gutted building was mostly empty, save for a few broken chairs and a dusty table. 

He shoved Edward toward the table, limp prominent as he stalked after him. "I still have half a mind to kill you..."

Edward inclined his head. "I have half a mind to let you, Oswald."

"I've decided I want something different," he replied cryptically, closing the gap between them to give Edward a final violent shove, forcing him to sit atop the dirty table in the middle of the hovel.

Edward sat with a smirk, playing the obedient dog, the subservient man Oswald had met two years ago in his apartment. "It's nothing you haven't seen before, but...here~? Is this really a fitting place for The Penguin?"

The sound of flesh on flesh broke the silence as Oswald backhanded the other man firmly. "Shut up," he growled, both furious and aroused as he sized up his former friend and lover.

Edward grunted as he fell from the table at the force of Oswald’s blow. He looked up at him with a glint in his eyes, a smirk on his bloodied lip. "Fuck me, you're angry~"

"What was your first clue?" he spat, helping the other man to his feet roughly as his anger dissipated enough to realize they couldn't stay in their current location, not with the Court on alert. "You're a dead man walking, what would you like to do with your last five hours?" he asked, voice dangerous and sensual as he backed slowly towards the door. "There's a motel three blocks from here. If you'd like to suffer for your sins- perhaps beg for your life a little, I will be there, awaiting your groveling." Whirling on his heel, Oswald disappeared into the darkness.

Edward watched him go with a smirk, the more idiotic and cowardly part of him screaming for them to run, to gather their forces and regroup to attack Oswald from a better vantage. But the Riddler, now freed by Oswald’s rough kiss and even rougher words was in control and he followed after Oswald once he had given him a respectable head start. 

He found his room without difficulty, his description not one to miss. Rapping on the door thrice he waited to either be shot or pleasured beyond his wildest dreams.

"Enter."

Oswald was like a lily amongst briars, naked skin glowing against the drab sheets as he held a sharp knife out toward his guest with a cruel smirk.

Edward looked at him on the sheets and paused in the door, getting his bearings. 

"Shut the door," he insisted, motioning the other man closer with his weapon. "Take your clothes off and come here," he breathed, twirling the silver knife between his fingers.

Providing that their truce held true, this was their last chance to trust one another before the illusion was broken once more.

Edward began to strip out of his bloodied jumper, approaching the bed. Once naked he knelt down on the covers at the mercy of his former friend.

"Kiss me," he instructed softly, fondness betraying his anger. "Show me how sorry you are..."

The Riddler was not as sappy or gentle as his counterpart, but something about the pale trembling bird laying before him gave him pause. He reached out, caressing down his soft cheek with a tenderness he wasn’t aware he possessed. "Oswald," he breathed, leaning forward, and brushing his lips against the other man's.

The gentility lasted only a moment as the knife's blade pressed dangerously against Edward's stomach, tip biting into the quivering flesh to draw a pin-prick of blood. 

"Edward~" he replied, biting his lower lip roughly.

Edward groaned. "Fuck, Oswald..." he touched his wrist, bringing the blade up and over his rib, leaving a long slice against the pale skin. "Mark me, take me, beat me, fuck me...this night belongs to you."

"Patience dear..." he whispered, fingers entangling roughly in the back of the other man's hair to bare his neck. "I intend to satisfy myself one way or another."

Carefully, he licked the blood from the flat of the blade, groaning softly as the metallic flavor spread over his tongue. He trailed the knife down Edward's neck, not quite breaking the skin as he traced over the prominent Adam’s apple and continued down below the dip of his clavicle, just over his heart. There, he marked an x, gentle pricks of blood blossoming from the cuts.

"You broke my heart," he whispered furiously.

"Not me," he murmured, accepting the perdition for his lesser half. 

Oswald's scowl faltered, dropping the knife to snatch his wrist tightly. 

He gazed back at him evenly, months of pain and torment swimming within the depth of his eyes. 

"All for the love of a puppet," he snarled, pulling Edward forward to capture his mouth with a violent clacking of teeth, a set of nails tearing slowly down his back as he pulled him closer. "You could have had this, had me ."

Edward groaned into the kiss, back arching against his nails. "Y-you’re not entirely nnngh blameless in this. You never...fucking god...told me of your feelings."

"You never gave me the chance!" Oswald retorted, wrenching the other man to the side to loom over him. "A bottle of wine. That's all you had to do, bring a bottle of wine... You never came back, and when you did you brought HER!" 

He pressed his hand to Edward's throat, tightening it as he tore another violent kiss from his mouth.

Edward gasped against the hand pressing against his throat, arms wrapped against Oswald, knee between his legs. He rubbed against his wetness, smirking against his lips. "You could've told me at any point between getting me out of Arkham and that fateful night, Oswald. I never pegged you for a coward."

"The moment had to be right, I had to be sure!" His fingers tightened, hips rolling faintly against the presented firmness. "I paid for my mistake, clearly."

"I think we both did," he replied. "Though, I know you don’t believe I've suffered enough, you should've seen what Eddie did to us after he shot you~" he pressed down, large hands bruising Oswalds hips as he pinned him to the bed.

"Ngh, I was too busy playing Olga’s patient, trapped in the manor. So sorry to have missed out," he groaned, leaning into the touch he both craved and feared.

His hand dipped down between his thighs, stroking his aching cock as his fingers wrapped around his hard length. "You missed a good show. Drugs, self-injurious behavior, masturbation all over his little hide-out in the docks~"

"Fuck," he hissed softly. Oswald hadn't expected his resolve to waver so quickly; Edward knew too much about his body's landscape for his own good.

"Nice to know we were both miserable..."

Oswald's fingers encircled Edward's cock, stroking roughly.

"Nnngh," he groaned, rocking his hips into Oswald's touch. "I think this could be cathartic~" He pressed a finger behind his sac, teasing the sensitive skin there for a moment before pressing back further against the puckered entrance. To his surprise he slipped inside with relative ease. 

"Nghh...ah... I deserve this, I deserved to be the one in your bed, I'm better than that stupid girl and her boring replica..." Oswald gasped quietly as Edward's finger slipped inside his tight hole, nails scraping another angry red trail down the other man's chest.

"Yes, and I'm the only one worthy of you, Oswald. I deserve to be here despite what that idiot has done. I want you. I need you." He stroked in and out, shifting down the bed so that his tongue could flick against the twitching length.

"Show me how much you need me," he breathed loftily, thrusting against Edward's tongue with a low grunt.

He opened his mouth wide, tongue lapping hungrily against him with a moan.

Oswald finally relaxed enough to succumb to the pleasure, eyes trained hazily on the chipped plaster ceiling as Edward continued. "Yes, take it, just like that...~" he gasped, fingers tight in the other man's mussed hair as he rolled his hips shallowly against his tongue.

He hummed with a smirk, taking his cock fully into his mouth as he pushed another finger inside him.

"Be gentle," he groaned, nails now digging into the flesh of Edward's shoulders. It was a pleasure unlike any he had experienced in a long while

He nodded against his cock, lapping languidly. "Do you have any lube or condoms~"

"Do you think you've earned the right to fuck me?" he smirked, eyes trailing to a plastic bag he'd left on the floor by the squeaky bed frame.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

"Lucky for you I am in the mood to be fucked, and I'm not a patient man... did a little shoplifting on my way over, everything is in the bag."

Edward chuckled, shaking his head. He sucked Oswald’s cock back into his mouth, tongue flicking against the sensitive length to tease.

"Ngh!"

His thighs trembled, forcing him to lay back and allow Edward's torment to continue. "Ed," he warned, though his threats fell short, flushed and needy as he was.

Edward paused, looking up at Oswald through lidded eyes. "That's not my name."

"I'm not going to give you the satisfaction just yet," he smirked wickedly, sucking a lower lip between his teeth as he tweaked one of his own nipples with an airy moan.

Edward's cock twitched between his thighs at the sight, and he pulled his fingers from Oswald, moving to grab the bag and its contents. Once he slicked his fingers, he pressed three back inside Oswald's tight little ass, stretching and filling him.

"Ah!"

The other man's actions were rough, hurried, and stung slightly- but they wanted each other to hurt, didn't they?

"I won't wait much longer," he warned between soft moans.

"As much as I delight in the idea of you feeling my cock for days, a prolapsed anus due to improper preparation is nothing to sneer at, Oswald~" He stroked his fingers in and out, fucking him deeply as his tongue resumed its good work on his hardness.

"Don't be disgusting," he hissed, tossing his head back against the flat pillow with a grunt. How he wished they could have done this long ago in the comfort of the manor instead of hurriedly in a creaky motel bed.

He flushed heavily and scowled, slipping his fingers free to at last move on to the main event.

Oswald sat up on his elbows to watch as Edward slicked his generously sized cock, blue-green eyes bobbing with the movement. 

"Lie down, I'm riding you," he insisted, disregarding his knee.

Edward's gaze flickered down to the purple and swollen appendage, concern barely concealed in his eyes

"Lie. Down." he repeated, more forcefully- Oswald needed to feel in control if only to start. "You owe me that much, and if you feel so dreadful about it you can give me a massage afterward... I hardly think you'll last five hours." The last sentence was spoken with a familiar smirk

He chuckled softly and acquiesced, lying flat on his back as his cock bobbed heavy and red against his stomach. "Do you know how to put a condom on, oh king of Gotham ~?"

"Bold to assume I've been saving myself for you," he replied, tearing the foil with his teeth.

Edward bristled, though he tried not to let Oswald know how deeply bothered that made him. He took the condom, ripping it open impatiently before rolling it onto his aching cock. He then grabbed Oswald by the hips and pulled him roughly against him.

He shuddered softly, shifting the hard length to rest against his puckered entrance, bearing down slowly with a low moan.

Edward's eyes widened, glasses eschew on his face as he gazed up at Oswald. His hands gripped and caressed along his hips and sides and chest, fingers pinching his sensitive nipples as his cock slipped inside his tight heat.

The smaller man wasted no time finding a rhythm, taking Edward deeply as he rolled his hips, weight favoring the left as he bounced.

Their lovemaking was fierce and rough Edward's hands and mouth and teeth everywhere they could reach. He sat up, Oswald now in his lap as he bit into his shoulder, claiming him from whatever lovers he had found in idiot Ed’s absence. He thrust up sharply, burying his cock within the other man.

"Oh, oh, oh! Riddler!" Finally, he cried out for him, nails tearing at his lover’s skin roughly as he reached between them to stroke his cock, clamping about Edward tightly as he grew close to release.

"Fuck... Oswald," he groaned, clinging to him. He buried his face in his shoulder as he neared his own release.

"Harder!" He urged frantically, growing tighter around him.

Gritting his teeth Edward gripped Oswald's hips in a tight bruising hold and fucked him hard and deep, cock pistoning in and out of Oswald rapidly. "Not...ngggh gonna last... fuck you feel so good, Oswald..."

"Remember this feeling, remember how good I feel," he gasped, sweat forehead against Edward's as they rose and fell in unison. "You could have this and more-ah!" With a final whine, he came, impossibly tight around his lover's cock as he milked his orgasm for all it could give him.

Edward's heart was fit to bursting as he wrapped Oswald in his arms and held him close, coming deep inside him with a soft murmur of his name as if in reverence. He held him like that for several moments, willing away the tears that had come unbidden to his eyes as he tried to get his breathing (and himself) under control.

Not wishing to break the spell, Oswald buried his face in Edward's neck, sticky with sweat, and remained there for several long moments until the other man finally slipped from inside him. He lay down, motioning for the other man to do the same. "Don't ruin this with words," he murmured, inching close to his side.

Edward had no intention of speaking, still fighting a losing battle with Eddie clawing at the inside of his brain.

Oswald closed his eyes, and for a brief moment it was as though nothing had happened between them; they lay entwined in Edward's apartment, curled up beneath soft quilts instead of atop scratchy sheets.

Edward tried to bask in the afterglow, ignoring the aches and stings from their rough lovemaking, but he soon grew weak and Eddie was screaming to be released. With a sweet parting kiss, he stood, donning the ruined uniform before walking to the door without a word

"Goodbye," Oswald sighed softly, keeping his eyes shut. Edward was leaving for work, the apartment smelled of coffee.

When he opened his eyes he was alone in the dingy motel room.


	6. There's Someone I Need to Kill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was very Edward-centric, and in order for what I have planned next to make any sense, I had to go back and write Oswald's POV of events after he was shot. I am sorry that I screwed around so heavily with the show's timeline in order to maintain my story's continuity. I promise this story will have a happy ending. Or...as close to a happy ending as two serial killers can have. <3

Oswald opened his eyes, a searing pain in his lower abdomen, sweat dripping down his brow. He was in his rooms, though how he got there he could not remember. For one brief moment he hoped that Edward had not turned tail and run, but had instead lifted him in his arms and carried him up to his wounds, and was even now caring for his injury as he had what seemed like a lifetime ago in his apartment on Grundy. He winced as he tried to sit up, immediately reprimanded by a strong voice to his left. 

“You must stay still. Injury very bad.” A large hand was placed on his shoulder, preventing his movements, and Oswald sighed as he realised Olga was taking care of him, and that Edward was indeed gone. He fell back against the plush pillows with a deep-set frown, jaw tight as he tried to hold in his tears. Everything was a blur, the whiskey, Edward coming home, the fight, but the pain in his side made it immediately clear that the man he thought he loved, thought had loved him in return, had betrayed him and tried to kill him. 

A slow smile crept over his lips, eyes cold and hard as he regarded his house maid. “Olga, there’s someone I need to kill.” 

The young mayor had never been a model patient. To preserve his right alone to kill his former chief of staff the true nature of his injury was not revealed to anyone. No doctors had been called on his behalf, and soon his mayoral duties fell by the wayside. It did not take long for the city to turn their attention elsewhere. The sycophantic public had no need for a mayor on bedrest, regardless of the reason. 

By three weeks Oswald was ready to rise from the bed and move about the manor. The rest of his staff had left him, save Olga and Zsasz, and so the manor’s defenses were no match when a familiar face came knocking one sunny afternoon. 

Sitting in his parlour reading about the exploits of “The Riddler” with a sneer, Oswald sipped his scotch, taking in the afternoon sun as his mind formulated and reformulated plan after plan to avenge himself on Edward Nygma. There was a crash in the front hall, Oswald unable to stand fast enough to draw his weapon as Fish Mooney strode into the room, two goons at her side. Her smile was regal, head held high; she looked as if by walking into his home she owned it. Flummoxed, Oswald slowly rose from his seat with a wince as Fish approached. “To what do I owe the honour of your visit?” he asked with a sneer. 

“I fear I need your help, Oswald,” she replied with a soft matronly expression. She snapped her fingers and a trembling man was pushed into the room, feeble protests falling on deaf ears. 

"Why did you bring him here?" Oswald asked through gritted teeth. 

"I need some information that he seems reluctant to give," she replied as if informing him about the weather outside. "I know you have history and I thought you might help me persuade him to share it." 

His eyes narrowed to near slits as he tried to work out her angle. "Why?" he asked after several moments of silence. 

"Because I believe we can help each other. I know you are losing your ties on the underworld." He opened his mouth to protest and all she had to do was raise her hand to silence him once more. "See right there," she took a step forward. "That is respect, or is it fear?" She shrugged, her smile ever present as she chastised her former pupil. "You need me, Oswald. You have always needed me, and now...I need you." 

The rest of the afternoon was spent with Fish, laying out her plans, helping her strategize when necessary, and collaborating on schemes to help secure Oswald’s throne within the underworld. Oswald had not felt so productive in quite some time, scowling as he remembered the cause of his lack of productivity: Edward’s betrayal and subsequent absence. By nightfall he had met the rest of Fish’s new crew. They consisted of more of Strange’s menagerie of monsters, a man who could not live outside sub-zero temperatures, a woman with incredible resistance to flame, a man who stole the life from anyone he touched, a speedster, and last but not least a young woman who did not seem to serve any overt purpose. Oswald did not know what to make of her strange naivete, or her almost childlike wonder at the size and decadence of his manor. However, he trusted Fish’s judge of character, and did not question her presence. 

As Oswald laid down for bed that night the young redhead knocked on his bedroom door, entering only after Oswald let out a firm, “What? Come in.” 

“Fish told me you’d been shot,” she began, walking into the room with a small brown jar. Oswald was immediately wary, sitting up against the headboard. “I brought something that will help.” She uncovered the pot, a rich earthy smell wafting over towards Oswald. 

“What is that?” he asked with a raised brow. 

“Um, medicine,” she replied with a nasty tone. “Do you want it or not?” 

He huffed and pointed to the bedside table, giving her a thin-lipped smile. “Is that it…” 

“Ivy.” 

“Ivy?” 

“Yes, Fish asked me to make that for you, though I can’t imagine why. You’re totally rude.” 

He sighed softly and inclined his head toward the girl. “I apologize if I seem rude. It’s not everyday an ill-mannered teenager brings me medicine in bed.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. If you need more I’ll be in my rooms, I guess. They’re near the...conservatory, I think Fish called it.” 

“Exactly so,” he replied with a tight expression. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight. Oh, and don’t eat that. You’ll throw up.” 

Oswald eyed it as she left the room, raising a brow as the door clicked shut. “Good to know…” 

The next several days were spent in constant planning. Oswald asserted his full control once more over the underworld with the help of Fish and her army. The next task was to rule the city in its entirety once more. He had lost the mayoral seat to Aubrey James once again, the city thinking his inactivity was enough to warrant electing an interim mayor. 

Fish’s brilliant plan to ransom the city for the antidote to the virus was intercepted by James-Bloody-Gordon, who seemed to be hopped up on the Tetch virus, and was absolutely out of his mind. Before Fries or Pike could incapacitate him, he shot Fish, the antidote falling from her fingers and crashing to the floor. Oswald fell to his knees by her side, cradling her in his arms as tears fell from his eyes. “N-No...we can fix this. I can fix this,” he whispered to her. 

“No, darling. I’ve been through this too many times to know that this one is gonna stick.” She cupped his cheek in her hands, looking at him with a warm, loving expression. “You rule this city, Oswald, or you burn it to the ground.” 

With a cry he held her close for a moment before laying her gently down to turn his attentions to Jim. “You monster!” As the detective lifted him by his throat, Oswald was grateful for Freeze and Firefly as they trained their weapons on the pair. When he was released he scrambled back with the rest of Fish’s army to regroup at the manor. 

Fish was buried on the manor grounds under a strong oak tree that overlooked one of Oswald’s favorite gazebos. 

Freeze, Firefly, and Ivy sat around the long dining room table awaiting Oswald. The tell-tale click of his walking stick signaled his arrival back in the manor, the former mayor hobbling into the room with a huff. “Fish Mooney is dead,” he began without preamble. “You all work for me now--” 

“No offense, Cobblepot, but can you offer me what Mooney was?” Fries asked, tone a bored drawl as he regarded the shorter man. 

“Money for research, a lab, and participants for study? Easily done,” he answered with a flippant wave of his hand. “This manor is large enough to accommodate all--” 

Zsasz, in the parlour, and decidedly not paying attention to Oswald’s little meeting, flipped the channel on the television, and laughed in surprise. “Boss, you gotta see this!” 

Oswald scowled, turning his eyes towards Zsasz. “What, Victor? What could possibly be so important that you had to interrupt…” 

“But they’re no match for ME!” Came the familiar voice from the television, causing Oswald’s blood to run cold. Edward was on the screen, looking pale and drawn, a manic grin on his lips as he twirled around a captive Aubrey James. 

“Turn it up!” Oswald demanded. 

They crowded around the T.V., watching as Edward Nygma declared war on an organization called The Court, grandstanding as Oswald had never seen him do before. A scowl crossed over his features as Nygma appeared to have moved on completely from their association, the old burning need for revenge igniting his heart once again. 

He turned on his heels and addressed his compatriots. “New plan!” he announced loudly. “Find Nygma! Bring him to me. Alive.” They stared at him, dumbfounded. Zsasz continued to munch on his snack from the armchair, watching his boss through lidded eyes. “Now!” he screamed, forcing movement in his subordinates. Ivy skittered out of the room, Fries and Pike shifted towards the door, and Victor stood from the chair, offering it to Oswald without a word. 

The next few weeks were a blur of tracking down leads only to be led to dead end after dead end. Oswald was beginning to lose hope. Edward had all but disappeared into thin air after his television debut. After paying a little visit to Jim Gordon, loathed as he was to do it after his last run in with him, Oswald learned that Edward had indeed been captured by this mysterious Court. 

Getting the Court’s attention had been easier than he expected, and as he was thrown unceremoniously into a dingy cell alone and unprotected, he thought he might’ve miscalculated this revenge plot. 

“Oswald,” he heard from behind him, the voice low and painfully familiar. “You’re alive.”


	7. I Can't Be Your Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this story will have a happy ending! We're already working on the next chapter, which will probably end up being the last if everything goes according to plan.

He knew it had been a mistake to allow Edward the rest of that ‘post-escape window’. The tenacious little genius had squirreled himself away somewhere in the city, and Oswald had yet to locate where. He knew a man with Edward’s proclivities and talents would not stay hidden for very long, but he was eager to get his hands on him again and sort this mess out. He needed to find out where he truly stood with Edward Nygma. 

Zsasz brought Edward to him three days later, bound and gagged, and strangely unconscious. Oswald gave Victor a questioning look. 

“He’s even annoying when gagged,” he answered with a shrug. “I figured ‘alive’ was a broad category.” 

The kingpin sighed, biting his tongue before a smart remark flew past his lips. “Thank you, Victor, you can go.” 

As he waited, he could not help but admire how much more pleasant it was to spend time with his old friend without being interrupted by the usual hateful tirades. He cut the ropes holding Edward’s limbs together, unable to let him lie in so uncomfortable a position even now. Perhaps Victor had been right to give him this moment’s reprieve. The outcome of the events Oswald had planned would determine their fate.

Dark eyelashes fluttered against high pallid cheeks as Edward groaned, hand rising to his throbbing head; no doubt concussed along the parietal. The last thing he remembered was pick-pocketing some idiot couple down near the east side. The first time he had dared to venture out in a few days, and, of course, he had been spotted by one of Oswald's spies. He had been trying to regroup, to formulate a plan of defense. Oswald had been quite clear before their escape from the Court; the punishment for shooting him was death, and he had come to avenge himself on Edward. Blearily he looked around, realizing he was once again at the manor; he immediately became irate that Oswald allowed him to remain unconscious for so long. 

He looked up over his lenses at the blurry sight of Oswald’s smirking face and sneered. “I imagine you’re going to drag this out,” he murmured, coming to stand. He did not notice any present threat, but that did not mean Oswald was unguarded.

“There are so few moments of pure joy in one’s life,” Oswald began with a grin, blue eyes gazing at him from across the room. “I feel compelled to savor this one.” 

Edward crossed his arms in front of his chest, brown eyes hard. "You mean gloat? It was always one of your least attractive qualities." 

“Yes I do,” Oswald replied, crinkling his nose in amusement. “It’s killing you isn’t it, knowing you aren’t as smart as you think you are,” he continued to goad, knowing it would spur Edward further along into his game. As he reiterated their adventures together with an air of sarcasm, he took up the bowler hat he’d confiscated from Edward, tugging it firmly upon his head with a smirk; his old friend was behaving exactly as predicted: arrogant, and defensive. He circled Edward, eyes trailing over his form. He looked far skinnier than he had, even in the cages, hair long and unkempt. This would not do. 

As Oswald made another rotation around him, Edward’s eyes found his gaze. “Don’t you get tired of making the same mistakes, Oswald?” 

“You think I’m making a mistake?” he asked with a light chuckle, perfectly at ease. 

“Well, instead of killing me when you had the chance, you decided to feed your ego.” 

Oswald laughed, addressing Edward fully now as he stopped in front of him. “You want to talk ego, Riddler~? I remember the night we escaped the Court, someone still needs my validation, my approval.” His tone was mocking and puerile as he spoke to Edward through pursed lips. 

Edward flushed, gritting his teeth. He did not remember much from after they escaped the Court, but his alter ego certainly liked to taunt him with shadowy details. Pale skin, flushed pink lips, the soft curve of-- He shook his head. “You will always fail, Oswald, because you will always let your base emotions drive you. Hate. Anger. Fear. Love.” If he could trip Oswald up and cause him to make a mistake, perhaps he could escape with his life. After all, his mentor had taught him that loquacity has saved his life a fair few times. 

“Shut up.” 

“You want to know why I could never love someone like you, Oswald?” Edward asked, stepping closer to the other man, even as his eyes surveyed their surroundings. He needed Oswald to hurt, to react and make the first move so that he could justify their continued game. If Oswald attacked him first, then he knew he was validated in retaliating against him. If Oswald harmed him, he would know without a doubt that Oswald was his enemy. “Because you are a spoiled child, who throws a tantrum anytime he doesn’t get what he wants!” 

It was growing difficult to maintain his nonchalance as Edward began baiting him, dredging up the past in an attempt to rile him up- and it worked, damn him. Without taking his eyes off Edward, Oswald removed a gun from inside his suit coat. Edward swallowed around the lump in his throat, chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared at Oswald and the gun. 

“Prepare for one massive tantrum.”

His eyes traveled from the gun to Oswald’s eyes, a bleak heather blue with the stormy light coming in through the windows. The last time he had faced a scene like this he had lost everything of value. It would seem, however, that Oswald was insistent on playing the villain. He stepped forward again, his entire body trembling. 

"I can fill a room or just one heart. Others may have me but I can not be shared." He adjusted his glasses quickly, twitchy fingers pushing them slightly out of place. “What am I?” 

Oswald’s mind faltered for a minute. He should not have been surprised by the ridiculous use of riddles. He sighed heavily, the grip on the gun loosening as he replied. “Loneliness. Something you left me with quite a bit of when you shot me!” 

He took another tentative step forward, lips quirking up at the corners at Oswald’s right answer. He knew, if Oswald must be his enemy, that at least he would be a competent one. "I can be a member of a group but I can never blend in. What am I?” 

“A...a snowflake?” Oswald asked, head cocked to the side. 

“What? No!” Why did everyone get that one wrong!? “The answer is an individual!” 

Oswald scoffed, unimpressed. “It’s the same thing, Edward.” He was not quite sure where Edward was going with this little game, but he seemed to be taking his time with it. The gun felt heavy in Oswald’s hand, and he wondered if the younger man would ever make his move. 

“I feel your every move, I know your every thought. I'm with you from birth and I'll see you when you rot.” He was right in front of Oswald now, the barrel of the gun pressed to his chest. “What am I?” 

“A reflection,” he murmured, staring up into Edward’s eyes, the usually sharp gaze had softened to something warm, and real, and scared. 

Edward raised his hand to Oswald's, pulling the gun from his grasp. He held it in his palm as if considering the weight of it, the gravity of the situation they found themselves in once again. His eyes caught Oswald's once more as he murmured, “Oswald, I...can’t do this,” he breathed. “I can’t be your enemy.” He extended his arm to hand the gun back, but felt a change in the air. A piercing cold struck Edward's back. He gasped, shoving Oswald before he too became encapsulated within the frozen tomb. His hands were locked outstretched and reaching for Oswald in those final moments, eyes wide with fear as they gazed into his former friend’s. 

Oswald had been so certain Edward would fail, and then, at the last moment he recanted, gun clattering to the ground between them poignantly. He had been lost to the moment, unseasonable chill in the air drawing him from his reverie. His eyes met Victor's, but it was too late to call him off. 

"You idiot!" he screamed, falling painfully to his knees before the frozen statue of his best friend. "He was handing me back the weapon! You were supposed to wait!" 

The commotion Oswald was making pulled Ivy from the conservatory, redhead popping into view around the corner. She saw Oswald on his knees in front of a giant block of ice, Freeze looking on with his usual apathetic expression. Slowly, she approached. 

Oswald's fingers scrambled desperately against the cold surface, hands growing numb. "He was standing down..." His throat grew painfully tight, preventing him from continuing. He could only stare into the depths of the ice with a growing sense of dread.

The statue that looked down at him was a mournful monument to the shortcomings of vengeance. Edward was reaching out towards Oswald as if he might take him into his arms, wrap him in a loving embrace and whisper sweet nothings with those plush lips that were now locked in a frozen tormented "No!".

Victor shrugged as he approached, uttering a simple "Oops."

"Oops?!" Oswald shrieked, spittle flying from his lips. "Unfreeze him, now!" he insisted frantically, regretting his method of capture. Victor had insisted the process was safe, but as he watched his friend, unmoving within the block of ice, a creeping worry settled in his veins.

Victor did not immediately answer, and Ivy became increasingly worried that Oswald would burst a vessel. She moved closer to the angry kingpin and reached out to touch his shoulder.

He flinched dramatically, clenching and unclenching his fists as he pulled away to pace before the iceberg. 

"Pengy...it's good that he was going to surrender...right? That's what you wanted."

"I... I wanted him to hate me, to say the same things that hurt me before. I wanted it to be easy..." he choked out quietly, a numb hand still pressed flat against the smooth ice. "I didn't expect him to be remorseful..."

He wiped at his cheeks quickly, not wishing to be seen crying over Edward Nygma. 

"He was supposed to be angry."

She looked at the frozen man before them, her young mind unable to decipher all the emotion in the tall man's face, but knowing hatred and anger weren't among them. 

Composing himself, Oswald turned to Freeze, and, rver the honest businessman, provided him with the promised amount of money, along with the instructions that Edward was to be unfrozen as quickly as safely possible.

"It may take longer than you wish," Victor replied honestly, a scientist through and through "My unfreezing process was not perfected and it would take ample experimentation to make sure he isn't...damaged."

Oswald grew dizzy, steadying himself against Ivy's petite shoulder. "Damaged? Damaged how, Victor?!" he barked, mind whirling. "You promised me this process was safe!"

Victor shrugged again. "Some of my early experiments decomposed, some only partially unfroze... I never was able to bring anyone back to viable temperature. However, this new formula was based on Hugo's synthesized batch from Indian Hill. I can only speculate about the effects."

Growing queasy, Oswald pressed his eyelids shut tightly, fingers pushing against his temples painfully. It was his own fault, he'd never planned to unfreeze Edward, and therefore never bothered to ask about the effects should he desire otherwise. 

"Please... run some tests, I'll provide subjects and whatever funds you require... I need him alive," he whispered, setting his jaw tight as he looked up at Edward's frozen form. He would need somewhere to keep him. Someplace safe and away from prying eyes...As Oswald contemplated the many new dilemmas he had, Ivy approached slowly, reaching out to touch Oswalds hand. "Freeze'll come up with something..."

Oswald was stiff, eyes unwavering in their gaze as he continued to stare up at his friend, confession ringing in his ears even now. 

"I need to be alone," he whispered hoarsely, feeling hollow inside.

She nodded, touch lingering a moment before she too walked away. "I'll be in my rooms if you want company," she whispered before disappearing down the hall.

Slowly, Oswald limped before the source of the room's chill, dragging a stool along beside him to sit before his mistake. 

"Eddie..." he began when he was certain they were alone. "I don't know if you can hear me... God, I almost hope you can't, but if you can...I am so sorry." Finally, he allowed himself to cry, palms reaching upward to caress the ice in his sorrow. "I never expected your forgiveness... I only planned for vengeance and now I could lose you completely..." 

He spent several hours weeping before his monument to distrust, shivering as the chill settled into his bones.

Ivy came back down late that night, finding a trembling Oswald before the statue. She wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and looked up at Edward Nygma with a puzzled expression on her face. He hurt Oswald so cruelly and yet here he was weeping at his proverbial grave.

"He was... my first love, you know..." Oswald murmured softly, breath hot with whiskey as he chuckled morosely. "One of the first things he said to me was that for men like us, love was a weakness and still..." his throat tightened, silencing his thought. "Ivy I don't want him to die..."

She swallowed, trying to offer comfort, but failing awkwardly. "I've... I've never been in love, Oswald. I don't know if I even know what love is... but are you sure someone who shot you and left you for dead is worth it?"

"I did kill his girlfriend," he laughed bitterly, numb fingertips resting against his knees. "I don't understand love either, but Ed... he feels so right and now he could be dead in there..."

"Victor will find a way...you're paying him enough to," she chuckled softly, trying to lift Oswald's spirits.

He nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the fearful expression on Edward's face. "I hope so... I thought this was what I wanted but, now that I have him here like this it feels so wrong..."

"Do you think he truly loves you, or just that he couldn't kill you?" she asked in a whisper

"That's what I need to find out. That's why I need him to be alive," he replied somberly. "I need more answers."

She nodded, rubbing his back gently. "You should go to bed."

"I know," he nodded, finally lowering his gaze to fumble for his keys. He locked up, and when he was alone once more, leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the flat surface of the ice. "Goodnight Ed," he whispered, unable to look back as he headed for his bedroom.


	8. A Tomb of Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right this is the final chapter. Thank you for those of you who stayed with the story from the beginning! I had so much fun writing it, so thank you for your patience!

He visited Edward every night, the room he had Victor move him into became more a frozen shrine to his friend than the redesigned cooler it truly was. More often than not Victor Zsasz was sent in to carry the shivering former mayor off to bed, and Ivy more than once had to make a tincture for his cough, or stuffy nose. 

"Boss, don't go see Nygma tonight. Your opening the club in a week's time, the Peace of the Penguin thing is just getting off its feet. You need to be at your best, and sleeping on a cold floor in front of a popsicle man is not the way to do that."

Oswald glared at Zsasz. "I don't believe I hired you for your input, Victor," he sneered. "Now go make yourself useful, and tell Ivy not to disturb me. I want to be left alone. Do you understand?"

Zsasz shrugged and turned to go. Oswald could freeze right alongside Nygma for all he cared. If the lovestruck idiot couldn't tell he was spiralling down a path of self destruction...well, as he said he didn't get paid for his input.

Oswald entered the frozen chamber, a large fur coat wrapped around his shoulders. "It's me again, Ed," he murmured, trailing his hand over the icy surface as if he could touch the tips of Edward's outstretched fingers. He sat with a heavy sigh, pulling a blanket over his legs. His knee ached terribly in the cold, but being with Edward, even in this way, was better than sitting up in his office, or at the manor, fretting. He pulled a book into his lap, thumbing through a few pages before he found the beginning. He had picked this book from Edward’s small collection because it was small, less than one hundred pages, and it had Edward’s name upon the cover. He had never heard of the author, Christopher Marlowe, but he thought it might not be too difficult. He was not the best at reading out loud, preferring Edward's smooth, rich tenor to his stuttering and awkward attempts, but he hoped if Edward could hear him he appreciated it regardless. 

“ ‘My father is deceas’d. Come, Gaveston’...Gave-E-Stone? Gav-Eh-Ston...Whatever,” Oswald murmured, holding the book closer to his face as he squinted at the text. “ ‘And share my kingdom with thy dearest friend.’ ” He smiled, looking up at Edward with a soft sigh. “ ‘Ah, words that make me surfeit with delight! What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston than live and be the favourite of a king!’ ” 

He read to him until his fingers could not turn the pages any longer. He did not know how late the hour had grown, but, gritting his teeth, he came to stand in front of Edward, hand pressed against the ice. “Goodnight, Edward. I promise I will get you out of there soon.” He kissed the tips of his fingers and brought them to Edward’s frozen cheek. 

“Pengy,” Ivy called as Oswald trudged up the stairs towards his office. He had taken a large bottle of scotch from behind the bar to accompany him. 

“What?” he asked gruffly. He turned towards the young girl, his face and ears a deep crimson, the skin burning after sitting with Edward for so long. His quivering lips were drained of all their rosy color, fighting to hold the sneer as he regarded Ivy. 

“You shouldn’t spend so long with him,” she replied, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You’re going to get sick, and then I’m going to have to take care of you again--” 

“Then leave!” he snapped, taking a long swig from the bottle. “Anyone who does not wish to stay and help me with Edward can leave! I don’t recall asking you to stay to begin with, Ivy. Freeze and Firefly are useful minions and can be called upon when needed, but I have no use for you and your idiotic plants!”  
Her eyes widened for a moment, before a scowl twisted her pink lips. “Fine. You’re a bad friend.” She threw her hair over her shoulder and stalked off. 

Rolling his eyes, Oswald disregarded the young fool, and continued his way up the stairs. 

Ivy stormed through the small corridor towards the cooler. “Let’s see how Nygma does if I turn up the heat a little.” She lifted Bridget’s flamethrower, opening the cooler door with a grunt. Slowly, she began to pump flame into the small room, melting the ice. It did not take her long to bring the temperature of the room up to allow the block to begin to melt on its own. Soon, however, she grew bored of her revenge plot as Edward did not immediately awaken once his head was out of the ice’s encasement. 

She closed the door, leaving Bridget's equipement back where she had found it, before going to pack her room. If Oswald was not going to appreciate her, she would find a group of villains who did. 

Inside the tomb Edward’s ice began to crack down the middle, the ice having melted enough to split in two. Edward fell unconscious to the floor, remaining in the freezer until morning. 

There’s a place between waking and sleeping, where the body cannot move still held fast in Morpheus’ hold, but the mind is free to wander, conscious of its environment and the thin rift behind the veil. Some claim to see terrors, demons in the shadows, strange figures coming through to haunt them. Edward had never experienced such paralysis; his nightmares found him in the full grip of sleep, terrible and vivid. 

However, now he found himself floating through a dark sea, neither falling, nor flying. Neither here, nor there. He had never been in so quiet a place, even in his own mind. He tried to speak but found himself incapable, watching as the endless inky blackness surrounded and consumed him. 

Perhaps this was Hell, or some version of perdition. Nothing to occupy his intellect, nothing to sate his need for conscious fulfillment. 

Oh Eddie, I’m so sorry. 

Did his eyes open? Did his heart skip a beat at the familiar voice swimming through the bleak void? He couldn’t call out, couldn’t reach him to tell him that he too was sorry for everything. 

He counted the minutes, hours, days with various soliloquies, sonnets, and recitations of chemical structures and compounds. Time either stood still, or meant nothing at all as he floated through an endless abyss. The only solace came from Oswald’s voice slipping around him like a warm blanket before it disappeared again and left him cold and alone.  
Something orange and hot licked at the corners of his periphery. He couldn’t identify the source, and all at once sensation and color came back into his world. He felt like he was falling, and there he lay, aware of the hardness of the ground beneath him, and the air swiftly filling his lungs. 

He fought to open his eyes, every movement slow and painful. 

Sleep rarely came without aid from one of his vices, now too numerous to count as he struggled to maintain his hold over Gotham's underworld while nursing a battered heart and a frozen lover. Body sluggish with last night's booze, Oswald awoke at half past eleven, rising with a low groan as he made his way unevenly to the dresser. Slipping an indiscriminate amount of pills into his mouth, he washed them down with the watery whiskey on the nightstand. 

Without much thought, he pulled on his outfit from the previous day, exchanging the tie and nothing more before settling at the vanity to do some damage control. He wiped the smudged rings of mascara from around his eyes and re-applied, powdering his nose with a long sigh. It wasn't his best work, but he didn't have the energy for anything more. He wanted to have his morning coffee with Edward. 

Draping a long feathered parka over his arm, he made his way unsteadily down the stairs, stopping by the kitchen for his piping hot mug before suiting up to enter the cooler. 

He ought to have noticed the change of temperature from the outside, and had his head not been pounding and spinning simultaneously he might have. A gloved hand reached for the latch and he heaved it open with a tired grunt.

The coffee mug shattered on the floor, as water began pouring from the sealed door frame, pooled evenly over the surface of the floor where Edward's icy prison had dissolved.

"Ed!" He gasped, shrugging his coat off quickly to kneel at the other man's side with a splash. "No, no, no...."

That voice, the one that called to him from damnation, the only thing that kept him from being swallowed completely by the dark. He groaned, atrophied muscles protesting each movement as he finally opened his eyes. “Os...wald…” he breathed. 

"Victor! Someone! Help!" 

Oswald was only vaguely aware of his own voice calling out for anyone who could hear; this wasn't supposed to happen.

He cradled Edward's shoulders, balancing his head gently in his lap with shaking fingers. "Breathe Ed, just breathe..." he urged, reaching for his abandoned coat to wrap it around Edward haphazardly when he realized how cold he was to the touch.

“S-Sorry,” he shivered, mouth slow to work the words he desperately wanted to say. “M-My fault...all my f-fault...Pl-please…” 

"No, no, please don't say anything, not now, just lie still," he urged, suddenly aware that he was weeping over his friend's cold form, cold enough to be dead and yet he survived the thaw! 

"Just be still..."

The next few minutes were a blur as Zsasz and a few other nearby henchmen quickly moved Edward upstairs to Oswald's bedroom, where he was swathed in blankets and hot water bottles in an attempt to raise his core temperature.

Edward closed his eyes against the whirlwind of color and sensation as he was whisked upstairs to Oswald’s bedroom. He was not in the manor, nor did he recognize where he was being kept. Some sort of club, or bar? He decided that was a problem for another time. Despite being essentially in a coma for however long he was extremely tired, and as soon as he felt the soft bed beneath him he allowed his body to relax into it. 

“Os...Oswald, I can’t-” His eyes blurred, tears coming to the surface that he was unable to wipe away. “I can’t move my arms.” He wanted to reach out, to touch Oswald, to hold him. He needed to assure himself that the other man was indeed there, that this was not some new warped vision from the void. 

"I'm so, so sorry Ed..." he whispered, voice sounding foreign and choked as he climbed into the bed beside him despite his own damp clothing. Everyone else had been ordered out, and when Zsasz left to contact a discreet physician, they finally had their privacy and he began to slowly pull the cold, wet clothes from Edward's limp form. His own eyes were filled to the brim with tears, a large knot in his throat making it nearly impossible to speak. The arch of his nose brushed against the frigid skin of Edward's cheek as he pressed a desperate kiss there, trembling as he quickly buried him in the quilted blankets once more. 

"You-" 

His voice broke, and he swallowed hard, brow furrowing as he wiped his eyes and tried once more.

"You're going to be okay Ed, you're alive... you're alive and you're okay."

His words seemed to almost reassure himself as much as they assured Edward, nervously brushing the curls from his lover's forehead as he spoke.

“Wha-happened?” he asked softly, looking up at Oswald with wide brown eyes. “I remember handing you back the gun then...nothing…” 

"I... I was testing you," he began slowly, unconsciously curling over the other man's bundled form as he spoke. "I needed to be sure, and I-I was so certain you would fail... I regret my lack of faith in you..." 

His voice broke, and he took a ragged breath, hand winding its way into Edward's as he steadied himself and continued. 

"Fries thought you had failed, he didn't wait for my signal... you gave the gun back but he froze you anyway."

Edward let his eyes fall shut as Oswald regaled him with his plan for revenge. He had thought Oswald would kill him for his own plot to humiliate Oswald with his feelings, and for shooting him before fleeing the manor. He might’ve known that the other man’s heart would get in the way of his good judgement again. 

“Why didn’t you just kill me, Oswald?” he asked, the words nearly muffled by the blankets surrounding him. 

"I wanted to keep you as a reminder... to never let my heart get in the way of my head ever again," he replied truthfully. 

"But you weren't supposed to give the gun back... and when you were frozen Fries told me there could be side effects... I couldn't let him unfreeze you until I knew you'd be safe... I don't know who thawed you out."

He might’ve shrugged if his shoulders would cooperate. At best all he could do was sigh in acknowledgment. “And now,” he ventured, looking down at Oswald’s hand within his own. “What do you plan to do with me?” 

"I'm going to make you well again," he insisted, sniffling loudly as he wiped his eyes on his soggy sleeve, smearing what was left of his makeup. 

"After that... I don't know. I don't even deserve to have you as a friend after this." 

Oswald sounded truly weighed down by his remorse.  
Edward’s eyes widened and with great effort he lifted his hand to rest it against Oswald’s wet cheek. His limp fingers were chilled to the bone as they tried to wipe away an errant tear. “After everything we’ve done, everything we’ve put each other through, you were the only voice I wanted to hear when I was trapped in the ice,” he whispered. “You were the only thing to keep me sane, to keep me alive. I would not be here now, regardless of whatever circumstances led to my thaw, if not for your voice coming to me in the dark.” 

"You could hear me?" He managed a smile, then even a soft chuckle as he recalled how he had struggled through his chosen literature. "I've never been very good at reading."

A smile slowly formed on Edward’s lips, the muscles aching and lethargic. “It was delightful,” he replied sincerely. “Every mispronounced word and fumbled passage kept me going. I came to a realization…”

"I don't know how to read at all?" Oswald offered with a hollow laugh, a soft fire kindling in his chest at the sight of the faint smile on Edward's lips. He tightened his grip around Edward's fingers gently, squeezing on and off as he met those dark brown eyes; how lovely it was to see life in them again. 

He laughed faintly, a minute shake of his head the only answer for a moment as he paused to collect his thoughts. “No...I realized that,” he bit his lip, looking up at Oswald with a piteous expression as his lower lip trembled. “I ruined everything. You were the only bright spot in my life, and because of my weakness and pride, I nearly destroyed the greatest happiness I had ever known. I can’t ask for your forgiveness...I don’t deserve it...Just know that I am s-so...so sorry, Oswald.” 

For a moment he said nothing, simply laying there with his limbs draped over the other man, his only friend, his life's 'one true love'.

"It seems we feel similarly," he said finally, sounding familiarly businesslike despite the vulnerable rawness in his voice. "As two regretful souls, perhaps we could simply resign ourselves to a partnership...?" he offered, ever daring even now. "Ed, we've been through too much to part ways now. Let the past be the fire that forges our strength in the future!" 

He laughed softly, settling down against the covers. "Forgive me... old habits." 

He swallowed, hardly daring to believe that Oswald could simply forgive him for his transgressions. The other man’s ability to persevere was incredible, and yet he always came out on top. He smiled despite himself and gave a tearful gasp. “Oswald, together no one could stop us…” The words rung with a promise from what seemed like a lifetime ago now, tucked away in Oswald’s mayoral suite, too much subterfuge and betrayal lacing their voices back then. Now, however, they rang clear as a bell, sincere and full of too many emotions to name. “Partners?” he breathed, hand tightening ever so subtly in Oswald’s. 

"Partners," he echoed back softly, leaning in slowly to seal the statement with a chaste kiss, lips warm against Edward's chilled ones. 

"Gotham is ours."

Edward sighed softly in contentment, at last at peace with himself, The Riddler, and Oswald. Even the best laid schemes didn’t always go according to plan, but sometimes the results were far better than anticipated.


End file.
